


Coming Home

by LinaLuthor



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chefs and cafés, Dreams and Nightmares, Edelgard is actually a cat, Gen, Overworked Lysithea, Reincarnation, Slice of Life, Yeah Edelkitty it is, can we say that's karma?, non-romantic edelys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25814020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinaLuthor/pseuds/LinaLuthor
Summary: Lysithea von Ordelia is a well-known chef that mostly specializes in pastries and bread. Her whole life was angled towards baking, from taking several cooking classes right after school to actually working at a bakery during her senior year. Eventually all the outside and self-imposed pressure kill her joy for cooking, to a point that she decides to change cities in order to start anew.It is in one of those days, after a strange recurring dream she can't remember and as she struggles to settle into Enbarr, that a curious-looking cat walks into her life.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Mercedes von Martritz, Edelgard von Hresvelg & Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So this is a funny little idea that got stuck into my head after I discovered there's a manga called "She and her cat". That's where this came from and I intend it to be a chill little piece, even if it touches some reincarnation stuff. Only... Edelgard coming back as a cat xD  
> (Was it meant to be a one-shot? Yes. Did backstory come and make it a bit too long for that? Absolutely)
> 
> In any case, I hope you just enjoy this!

_You are running out of time._

The sentence echoed around Lysithea, louder than her feet hitting the stony ground as she climbed a staircase, faster than she had though possible. There was desperation pouring into her bloodstream, strengthening her muscles, making her dart as fast as she could through those steps. Steps she had been avoiding, wishing to, then dreading to climb, the prospect at once both a necessity and an act of courage.

The stony walls around her made everything seem even more constricted, clutching her chest with an iron grip and making her heart beat quicker, flimsier behind her ribcage. That feeling only augmented when she found herself in a corridor with several wooden doors to her right and small, arched windows with lit torches on her left. The dark night surrounded the building and the flames did little to assuage her fears that other creatures could be crawling around, the souls of the departed walking through that corridor alongside her.

No, that was foolish. There were no such things as ghosts, she thought to herself, but couldn’t stop her heart from thudding too painfully against her chest at that. She had to stop for a second, listen in to the world around her and the thoughts in her mind. That small, eerie voice that some would call intuition, screaming at her to go. Her doubts, much louder, bellowing at her to get away, to give up.

_You are running out of time._

That sealed the deal, for it was true anyways and she would rather not find out what would happen if she did indeed run out of time. Exhaling loudly, Lysithea took a first step forward, her feet now sure of where she needed to be, and kept going on a languid, steady pace. Having to fight against herself, a strong force which wanted to hold her back. The fear of rejection, of getting a denial from the one she knew had once shared her fate, an ominous beat pulsing alongside her heart.

The only one who would perhaps understand the burden that had been placed on her due to all that had happened in the past, a past she had had no ability to decide or say no to.

She passed one door, then another, and finally a last one before turning to face the place she had been meaning to visit for so long. It had been hard to get all the way there, but it would be harder to do what she had to next. She raised her hand, already balled into a fist, and tried to knock. Then stopped when fear reared its head, immobilizing her on the spot before taking over her muscles and making them turn her away from there.

There was a frown in her face when she darted all the way back to her room, descending stairs she couldn’t even see, passing to the side of the lake, with waters that shone peacefully under the full moon, in front of the greenhouse she’d often seen Annette in. Stupid, stupid, that was so utterly stupid! Why couldn’t she bring herself to talk to her, to just go in and… ask something that could ease them into the topic of their pasts? It wasn’t the first, nor the second time she had attempted to do that, only to turn on her heels and decide against it – or let fear decide for herself.

She didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to keep on doing that. Soon they would be graduating, and sure enough there would be no reason for someone like the Imperial princess, Edelgard von Hresvelg, to have anything at all to do with a lowly noble like her.

_You are running out of time._

And she had been so, since she had “miraculously” survived the experiments her body had undergone, only to have her lifespan shortened as a result. She would always be running out of time, no matter how fast she tried learning, growing, experiencing the world around her. There would never be enough life for her, or enough moments for her to savor before it would be over.

Which made her dawdling over the simple matter of talking to Edelgard just as stupid and unnecessary, all things considered.

The young mage sighed, knew she would be beating herself up for it during the entire morning and some days to come. Until she found a sliver of courage to start again, only for that to repeat itself. It was what had been occurring for the last few weeks, after all.

Maybe she would try again tomorrow morning. There was always the chance that Edelgard had been sound asleep already as well, the last thing she wanted was to rouse her to discuss something so hideous and nightmare-inducing. Yes, next morning sounded perfect. It meant she wouldn’t have run so much out of time if she were able to do everything she needed to, then get closer to the princess and put the matter out of the way. Out of her heart, into the open air, into the secluded walls of Edelgard’s room.

She felt better at that prospect, somehow. Was rather thinking about making sure she’d get a nice night of sleep in order to rest for tomorrow, instead of chastising herself, when the sounds of harried footsteps coming from the other quarters, the main building in Garreg Mach and the entire monastery itself reached her ears.

Her eyes turned, saw more and more students leave their rooms, their faces startled as they huddled with one another and tried to decided what would be the better thing to do, what order they should follow. Searching around for a figure of authority, an adult of sorts.

Amidst the chaos she saw Annette standing with Mercedes, a harried look upon her face as they searched for the source of those sounds. Their eyes met and the ginger mage beckoned to her; Lysithea’s legs going willingly since she would rather be with someone than stand by herself like that.

All that was needed was for her to get to the other two girls’ side for hell to really break loose. They glanced at the cathedral just in time to see a dragon emerging from it, glistening white under the moonlight, emerald eyes narrowed in something like fury and betrayal. It was looking around the monastery as well, it seemed, its majestic wings fluttering, keeping it afloat as its incredibly large head swiped from side to side. Where it had come from, what it was searching for, Lysithea didn’t know.

But she would never forget the look of hurt and desolation she got from a certain pair of lilac irises, once she looked down at the ground again and saw Edelgard herself followed by Imperial troops of her own, getting away from the dragon, from the monastery, from the life she had had as a student, as fast as she could.

Somehow they were able to share one last parting gaze, and Lysithea saw tears falling from those eyes. Her own stung a second later, as well. It wasn’t that she was running out of time.

She had already run out of it, a long while ago.

Lysithea stirs as the dream comes to an end, her breath hitching and heart hammering inside her ribcage. She finds herself in a sitting position already, something that isn’t really the common way for her to wake up in. But then, until a few months ago, neither have been the nightmares, her routine too harried for her to actually have time for a relaxing slumber. Or for any dreams of sorts to actually come to her mind.

Not that she even remembers these the moment she gets fully awake, fully aware of her surroundings. She does need an extra second or three to situate herself in the room, in the white, sensible walls of her scantly decorated bedroom. The office desk under the heavily draped window – and the piles and piles of recipes that stand on it – the only sign of personality or hint to her life that is in there. Unless of course one counts the fact that her comforter has a bakery theme, with doughnuts and pies all around the baby blue fabric, which she doesn’t. That is only memorabilia from her earlier years, had more emotional value than anything else.

She looks to the side table which was squeezed in beside her mattress when she finished moving and groans at the sight of her alarm clock. 4am, too early even for her, but she knows she will never go back to sleep after that dream. She never does, even though she can’t remember its content. Only… a feeling of dread and guilt, so strong she wishes she could recall it, if only to know why that threatens to stifle her almost every morning. The recurring dream, once an interesting novelty, now an annoying half memory at the best.

A few impressions remain with her, mostly colors if that ever makes any sense. Dark brown (a door?), greens (maybe from plants), ululating reds, something white. Then lilac, the last one she sees before those fade from her mind and she is left with nothing, just a sole, weird sentence echoing through her mind.

_You are running out of time._

That is just the one thing she would rather not remember, she decides as she places her feet on the floor, finding it cold, and starts her day even though it’s one hour earlier than she is meant to. It’ll fade away as soon as she starts work, she knows, thus she pays it no mind. Though the notion that she of all people would be running out of time is kind of funny to her.

If nothing, time has always been running away from her. But that is another story, one that would probably make her crawl back to bed and not face the day if she ever starts engaging on it. Instead she sighs, puts on her slippers, ties her silvery hair back with a rubber band and makes her way through the lonely, small apartment, still dark since it’s winter and the sun has yet to rise.

Even in a warm city like Enbarr, winters are proving to be quite cold. She shivers as she passes though the hallway which connects the two small bedrooms to the living room, the place again pretty bare but for a dark purple couch facing the TV she has neglected for years, the one her parents insisted upon making her take when she moved out of their house.

Those two objects stay in a corner of the place, the other being reserved to the circular dining table, made in light wood and with three white chairs around it. There are books upon books lying in neat piles over the furniture, as she barely has time to have any meals at home and when she does, she uses the kitchen counter anyways. Hence that has soon become home for her cooking volumes, as she lacks a shelf and doesn’t feel like getting one just yet.

It has been two or three months since she has made the move from Derdriu, the city of her hectic, busy childhood and teenage years, into Enbarr, the place of opportunities, where she decided to start her life anew. It isn’t lost on her, as she makes her way to the kitchen by turning left on a narrow corridor, that little has changed beside the location she is in.

The life she is leading in there, pretty much as chaotic as the one she had while living with her parents. Though at least now she doesn’t have to worry about subjecting them to her crazy schedules and she can bake at will, at whatever time she has to, without having to remind herself to remain quiet. Even so, that is where the changes end and the similarities begin.

Lysithea pulls up her mobile and scrolls through messages until she finds the one she wants, the latest catering order she has received for a small-scale wedding. The details simple, leaving much to her own tastes and imagination. A requirement that would more than likely make her younger self happy, but ends up with her groaning in frustration as she scans her mind for what she can make. Her brain going through so many recipes at once, she has to order it to stop and start again, slower.

There is plenty of time, she tells herself, picking up pen and paper to note down good alternatives. The dream is wrong and she has plenty of time, always had.

She understands that is a lie, but goes with it all the same, more than glad to narrow down the list to the simplest, most delicious meals she could prepare for a wedding celebration. Her eyes run through the dark wooden cabinets which stand over her professional oven, the kitchen counter and the refrigerator itself, knowing by heart where each ingredient is, and finally goes to gather them.

A few minutes later she is already hard at work, making the cake first, her hands mixing flour, cacao and baking powder for sifting. She likes believing that once upon a time that was her salvation, the motions enough to distract her from the woes in her life and more than that, a way for making herself and others content. Nothing made child Lysithea happier than seeing how her family members, school teachers, parents, friends and cooking class professors would smile when they tasted her food; this reaction, and the feeling that she got in response to it, kept her going for a very long time.

Even when her body and mind were begging for her to rest, to take things easier, to not attend another baking lesson after a tough day at school – and later on, to call in sick when she was actually sick, or had been through too much already at high school.

She didn’t listen to any of these, was sure as a teen that what set her apart from other talented people around her was the fact that she would never give up, never let distractions keep her away from another hour spent in the kitchen or another recipe to master. In her head, that was what made her win two Leicester National Pastry competitions by the age of eight and get to finals on the Fódlan Bakery Cup when she was ten.

Back then, she would rather eat nothing but undercooked noodles for the rest of her life than to take a day off. A philosophy that served her well through elementary and middle school, but started faltering when she got to high school, all of its greater demands, and her own internal pressures to be the best student, given how she was also two years younger than her peers.

Lysithea shakes her head in exasperation, wondering why that day feels so nostalgic, so ominous in a sense. She doesn’t want to go down that memory lane, to revisit all the years in which she went straight from school to cooking lessons, then did her best to impress her classmates and teachers. Or how she would sometimes get home, bake until 1am and have to rush with her homework until three, since getting to class empty-handed was never a possibility.

Her parents paid too much for her education and for all the classes necessary to foster the ability they had seen in her child days. The ability to cook something amazing from scrap with or without a recipe to follow. She would never let any of their efforts go to waste.

Regardless of what happened in the past, it did end up bringing her there. To Enbarr and new possibilities, new people to work with and to get to talk to, new restaurants to get to know and… well, everything else the city would bring her. She feels grateful for the opportunity, really.

But why is there something akin to regret pulsing beside her heart when the thought comes? When her mind warns her that the setting has altered, yes, but the routine is almost the same, takes almost the same toll on her as it did before. That in the end… there is little to no transformation at all.

As she measures some vanilla syrup in the smallest spoon available, then adds it to the mixture, she notices the motion still hasn’t regained the magic it once had. She did think it would, when she put some distance in between herself and all the places she had worked in Derdriu, all the places that tried exploring her name as a chef extraordinaire in order to overcharge clients, then almost begged her to work harder, work faster, and oh, could she also come up with a new pastry since the lemon ones weren’t selling as much as before?

She can almost see the nice faces, the fake smiles and even faker praises they used to rain over her. The words that they knew would make her do their bidding, regardless of how much time it consumed out of her already tight, rigid schedule. All the tears that were unshed, too, since she knew what a waste of precious minutes it would be for her to succumb to those emotions, instead of simply rolling her sleeves and get back to work as she should – and would eventually do, crying or not.

The same tears gather in her eyes again, though she doesn’t completely understand why. And again she shakes her head, pushes them away, gets a tray coated in oil and starts pouring some of the batter on it, making the first layer of what will, in a few hours, become a grand wedding cake.

Running out of time, her? No, if nothing, it was time that has always slipped through her fingers. The thought revolves around her head while she goes on, minutes turning into hours, ingredients transformed into some entrées and the first sketch of a main course, which she makes a mental note to ask for the bride-to-be’s opinion when it’s later.

The kitchen is a mess when her mobile softly rings, signaling that it’s six o’clock and she has to get ready for work. She’s sweating, unaware that she has spent the first two hours of her day already catering to someone else’s dream. Her own, she doesn’t know where it has gone to. But it certainly doesn’t look anything like the life that she’s leading at that moment.

However, since complaining is the worst way to spend a day, she tucks that thought underneath the mental rug, to hang around with all of its other, equally unaddressed feelings and ideas, then goes back to her room and gathers everything she’ll need for another day in the café that she at least could have the honor of calling her own.

She doesn’t know how she ended up buying into the idea that being her own boss, aka running her own business, would mean having less work to do, or less stress to deal with to begin with. Sure, she thinks as she sits down at the one chair she pulled up from a stray table, letting the broom fall from her hand in tiredness, it’s great to not be talked into extra hours anymore, or to be pressured into coming up with new recipes every two days or so.

And yes, she hasn’t opened the café yet, was just going through the painful first months of putting things together, making sure the place is clean, orderly and has required things such as electricity and water going smoothly. Today would be the third day she was about to interview possible future workers, from cookers to waiters and everything in between. She’s gotten a fair share of nice candidates the days before, but none have actually stood out.

Which is more than fine, she thinks as she takes a look around the small, cozy establishment, with its light wooden floor, the circular tables with three chairs each standing in front of the glass balcony, the door to the much ampler kitchen behind it open. The lights are off, most because the windows on both left and right side of the building are undraped and more than enough natural sunlight is drifting in. She doesn’t care that it means people from the streets can see her cleaning, as she knows some have stopped just to do so, as it’s always good to save on every bill she can for a while.

Not that she is short on money – she has saved enough to get a head start, even if she has paid for her apartment in full, and in any case she has never fully stopped taking orders for catering, but even so. There is no need to be extra, in her opinion and saving is always a great thing, right?

She will soon have to start contacting people to deliver her ingredients, other materials and all the small things she has never thought about, but would be very important to run a café. The planning makes her groan; she’s a chef, a baker, not an entrepreneur, and at times like these she wishes Claude hadn’t only sent her a nice deal on both housing and a good location for her own business in Enbarr, but also a partner of sorts. Someone who could take care of such details that she neither knows, nor wants to get to know about.

But alas, if she had to choose in between figuring out some stuff and going back to the life she left behind in Derdriu… well, she would just ask for some recommendations on what books to read about starting her own café, really.

Lysithea smiles fondly at the memory, of how her once-classmate actually became her friend in times of need and offered the (almost) perfect solution to her problems. She wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for him and his network on estate matters, after all. With that in mind, she picks up her phone and is about to type him something to express her gratitude when there is a knock in the door. A glance at the clock tells her it is a little after 10am, which surprises her given how long she has been cleaning – and the fact that she was indeed waiting for someone to come for an interview at that time.

Looking down at herself for one moment to see if she can be deemed as presentable after all that heavy lifting, she shrugs, hopes her black pants and oversized purple sweater don’t make her pass as a careless person, then goes to answer the door. Her eyes widening when she wonders if the one she’s seeing is actually who she thinks she is.

“Hm, oh hello! This is the soon-to-be Crescent Moon Café, right? Or am I completely off track as usual?” The woman asks with a smile, her short blonde hair dancing in the sharp winter breeze, her long, blue coat which set idly over cream-colored pants doing the same.

“Y-yes, you’re in the right place!” Lysithea answers a moment later, her voice taking a moment to be found again as her mind whirred. It couldn’t be that… “Excuse me, but are you Mercedes von Martritz? Two-times winner of the Fódlan Bakery Cup?” She blurts, then remembers her manners and steps away from the door, letting the woman come in.

“Mhm, the one and only! You cannot imagine my surprise when I read that little miss Lysithea von Ordelia was opening a café herself, in my city no less.” She answers, feels honored that she was recognized by the other chef, the one who is considered a bakery genius. “So of course I had to apply. It’s been too long, though. I’ve missed you, you know? The cup hasn’t been the same without you there to make people tremble in fear.”

The younger woman giggles at that, at the memories of meeting and talking to Mercedes before and after the competition was over. The former occasion arising since she was lost, looking for the stage and in the verge of tears because she was afraid of not finding it in time. The latter, as she wanted to congratulate the blonde on winning, then ended up asking for the bread recipe and was delighted to not only get the full thing, but also a slice of the recently-baked winning piece.

Although Lysithea no longer competed after that year, as she decided to keep to more local events and get to work as well, she would never forget how much Mercedes seemed to be baking for the sake of baking itself. Not for the prize or the recognition, but simply to make others smile. Something that once in a while had been her own determination to cook, too.

Though as of recent, she would count herself lucky if she woke up with the will to grab a spoon at all.

“Oh hm… yeah, I’ve heard that the competition has been going downhill as of recent. You know, all those stories about bribing judges going around.” Lysithea offers, a grimace on her face at the subject. She has been keeping up with news in regards to the baking scene and there was always the internet too. Such scandals were hardly noticed in the mainstream media, but if one knew where to search there were always news about it.

“Oof, tell me about it. It’s why I’ve stepped down from those events, too. There’s no use trying to make up the best bread ever if we all know the prize is actually going for who can pay the judges the most amount. In any case, at least this has given me more of an incentive to get a job on top of catering.” Mercedes agrees, glancing around the small place. “The funny thing is, apparently people in this business will want to get your soul if you are famous, or at least that is what I’ve discovered in these last few years.”

“Absolutely. Please, take a seat.” She says while waving at the only chair available, her heart fluttering in recognition at those words. Can it really be that Claude’s advertisement actually managed to reach some people like Ms. von Martritz? That soon?

“Thank you. You have quite a lovely something going on here already, don’t you?” She smiles, eyes yet again wandering over each nook and cranny of the tiny café. “It’s so good already, I can’t wait to see it open and running.”

“It hm… it makes me happy to hear that, truly.” Lysithea blushes, unable to keep glancing at the other woman straight in the eye. “Now, you said you started looking for jobs in the industry after competing got too much, is that correct?”

“Yeah! But let me tell you, and I don’t know if that’s why you decided to open your own place, but some managers and bosses out there are incredibly harsh. And unyielding. And downright cruel.” Her face becomes cross the more she talks about it, her sentiment echoes in the younger woman’s shining pink eyes. “And what’s worst, some of them don’t even know to cook an omelet, or bake some bread. I’m sorry, not to judge someone else by their skills, but what? How can they even think about ordering me around if that’s the case?”

“Exactly! Like who are you to tell me to cook faster and make it better if you don’t even know how long it takes to make bread?” She adds, somewhat excited. Sounding at once like the eighteen-year-old she actually is, not the responsible adult she has been trying to become each and every day. “Ugh, this made me so mad, you can’t believe it. But hm… go on.”

They talk some more, though most of it consists of their favorite recipes being traded instead of actual job-related questions. But then, Lysithea thinks as she shakes Mercedes’s hands, thanking her for never forgetting her over the years and for taking an interest in her humble café, she hired the baker the moment she recognized her, back at the door. The prospect of having that talented woman working alongside her in a matter of weeks at the most just way too good, making her giddy.

She spends the rest of the day in complete silence, organizing what little stock she already has, placing the tables on the newly cleaned room and wiping some dust out of counters, of the ovens which were delivered last week and standing ready at the back of the kitchen, washing trays that she received during the afternoon. And although she doesn’t have any customers yet, nor things to cook in advance for that place at the very least, it takes the entire day for things to be set in order.

It’s way past 9pm when she finishes writing in the last details on her own reports, listing what was acquired earlier that day, what she should get for the next week, who was coming in for interviews tomorrow (she still couldn’t believe she didn’t recognize Mercedes’s name when she sent the message asking to book the 10am time for her), so on, so forth.

She gets up from the chair she has been sitting on for a while and stretches, hears her spine popping and snickers at it. Yes, she ought to try doing some form of exercise to help or else sooner or later her body would start suffering due to all those hours standing still. Maybe once the Crescent Moon was open for business and she had more people taking care of it in her stead, she might schedule some yoga classes. Or just get some time off and go for the longest walks ever, as she did back in Derdriu on those last days before she moved, when she finally listened to her body and mind and took a break from her crushing workload.

If she wasn’t so tired, she would go for one of those strolls right there and then, she thinks once she has made sure every window and the backdoor are closed, then gets her backpack and sees herself out, keys jingling under the weight of her favorite keychain, one shaped like a red carnation.

The flower has always been an obsession of hers and she used to keep some in her room, on a glass vase set over her table. So when she saw the keychain on a historical fair of sorts, since it was one of the many symbols a certain Emperor or another had used, she just needed to get it.

Tucking the keys back in her pocket, she marvels at how much colder it is now compared to when she left her home. The wind is soon enough running icy caresses on her skin, as her sweater is not resistant enough to keep it at bay, and she shivers, then walks faster, her footsteps echoing at the almost empty streets

The chilly stone underneath her feet reminds her of something else, the sounds her boots make when hitting the pavement calling forth a recent memory of a dream… a dream which has repeated itself way too often, but she can never remember specifics. Only that there is something she needs to do, that she has been avoiding to, and she is running out of time. Then another thing, white and scary, looming over the sky and searching.

Searching, searching just as she is in that moment, her senses somehow in overload, as if simply expecting something to happen. The idea that she is almost out of time repeating itself again and again, her steps becoming more harried, her pink, wide eyes frantically watching every perimeter of the streets bathed in lamplights.

One moment is all that she needs, she knows. One moment of courage, of not holding back. One moment when something happens and she takes the action she was supposed to, before.

She never expects it when the time for action does come, however. The second she sees a small, fluffy-looking white cat dashing from one side of the street to the other, its lilac eyes wide and terrified. The next moment a dog sprints, its fur equally white, marred by piercing green irises and a menacing snarl on its lips.

The hound’s legs are longer than the tiny cat’s though, and that is why the other animal is able to plunge its sharp teeth deep into the feline’s leg. The small, high-pitched cry of pain enough to make Lysithea shake her head and dart herself, unafraid to stand up and defend the cat if that is what it takes this time around.

_This time around… she would do what she wanted to. She would not let time slip through her fingers again._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysithea waits at the veterinary hospital as a harmed kitten is taken care of. She reminisces about what happened and the strange thoughts and memories she keeps having, wondering if they're actually fragments from dreams.

Steps, her own steps, echo around her, their cadenced, methodical thumps a contrast to the thoughts humming in her head. The motion, the sounds, becoming somewhat familiar to Lysithea when she adds in the sense of foreboding that is coursing through her, even though she can’t really recall why. A half figment of a dream presents itself to her for no longer than a second, one where she may or may not have done some pacing, some waiting. But as always when it comes to those dreams, she would be damned if she could remember the entire thing – or anything at all, to be exact.

Thus she has to content herself with meandering, with losing herself in the boring white walls and pristine environment that surrounds her. One that she never thought she would one day find herself in, truth be told. Everyone who knows her is aware of the fact that Lysithea isn’t a fan of animals or pets in general. Least of all cats, those treacherous beings that, in her mind, would one moment be all sweet meows and cuddles, and the other would turn at the person and hiss.

So the fact that it is past midnight on a Wednesday and she is on the calm, silent waiting room of a veterinary hospital – the best in Enbarr, she would find out later – doing nothing but walking back and forth from the semi-circular, cream-colored front desk (where the receptionist is currently watching something interesting, maybe anime she thinks, a hand paused over the unused keyboard of his sleek, black computer, his shock of blue hair the only thing Lysithea can see due to how close to the screen his face is), to the shut door of a vet’s room, is completely not something she thought she would be doing when that day began.

She tries her best not to keep replaying the scene in her mind, tries distracting herself with the unchanging, plain walls instead of glancing at the spot of dried blood which is etched on her blue sweater. Yet she can’t help but fall into the habit of rewinding back to that time and, if she were to let her head go further, perhaps to another one. One in which things were a bit more different, where the outcome wasn’t at all positive.

When she was on the opposite side and ended up being the one to strike down-

She shakes her head, unsure of where those thoughts were leading her. Unfortunately has nothing to do, nothing to see, no one to talk to until the kind lady who attended her before opens that dark wooden door in the end of the narrow hallway she is walking through. The white tiled floor so polished she can almost see her own reflection, the worry that taints her face, making it paler than ever, and her eyes a duller shade of pink as she reminisces.

Going back to that moment, the one when she acted without thinking and changed what probably was supposed to be a worse outcome than the one she ended up getting.

Sheer instinct guided Lysithea’s legs forward a second after the white kitty whimpered in pain. Although she didn’t exactly know what to do, given that the dog was curled over its prey and attempting to make it stop squirming in order to sink its fangs in even more, she darted to the middle of the street anyways. She was thankful that it was a rather late hour and there were few to no cars coming, their sounds distant as they transited through other roads that weren’t that one.

“Hey!” She screamed, tried to draw the hound’s attention to her, uncaring that she was barely taller than the animal which growled in fury, its eyes narrowed, muzzle already dripping with blood which glittered red over its pearly white teeth.

The white dog turned to look at her after that outburst and the sounds of her steps, but nevertheless managed to sink one of its paws into the small kitty’s side in order to keep it still, drawing another pained meow from it. The sight of it – and all that crimson staining both of their dirty, snowy fur – made her run even faster, reaching the two of them at last…

Only for her to stay immobile for a few harried heartbeats, simply watching what was happening as something else hit her, a premonition of sorts, the same line about running out of time repeating itself in her mind. She didn’t understand why that was coming up in the most obnoxious of times, freezing her to death when the one thing she had to do was act.

_Act correctly, though. Don’t jump to conclusions like last time._ Another thought that made absolutely no sense, but at least resulted in her shaking herself awake, even more so when wide, panicked lilac cat eyes fell pleadingly on her.

Moving quick, she took out her backpack and menacingly swung it in the dog’s direction. Felt something akin to victory when it indeed took the hint and pulled away from the small feline, growling and baring its teeth at Lysithea, visibly irritated at the intervention.

There was no fear coursing through the girl when she placed herself in between them, grip taut on her backpack, facing the irritated dog and waiting, knees bent. Completely on edge and waiting to either hit it with her improvised weapon or go for a run if she needed to, depending on what the hound decided to do. Their eyes upon one another, feral green on determined pink. As if they had been like that once, a very long time ago.

She forced herself to remain focused, though. There was no way she had seen a dog like that before, she would remember it. How it held itself, all regally, but had been keen to attack a little animal like that for no reason – at least none that Lysithea could spot, in any case. How a street post cast fading, yellow light over its fur and eyes, making it look something ethereal, monstrous even.

The only thing missing from it were wings, the girl thought, then dismissed that idea as stupid and tightened her stance, ready to do whatever was needed to protect the kitty behind her.

Too many minutes were spent like this, in nothing but tense anticipation for what was to come. Both human and dog stood their grounds, muscles contracted, fury and an ominous energy coursing through their irises, determination behind their stances. It was quite something to be seen, but luckily no one else came in that particular street for the time they remained like that. Perhaps someone else’s presence would have made the dog spring into action, or tipped the delicate balance they had achieved one way or the other.

It was visible when that stalemate was broken. The hound, that certainly had better things to do than fight with a girl over a silly small cat, simply rolled its shoulders back and looked to the other side of the road, towards a row of houses to their left. After a last huff, almost as if it were a warning, it tilted its body sideways and sprung again, leaving behind a curious girl and a wounded cat.

A wounded cat… Lysithea needed a second to remember why she had simply run to the middle of the street like that, keeping her muscles tense until that time. When she turned around to check on it, she realized the feline was all but limping away from her, going towards an alley which stood between a closed pizzeria and an abandoned clothing store which had just been rented a few days ago.

“Hey, little one.” The girl exclaimed, wanted to run to the hurt animal but knew the sudden movement would more than likely just end up scaring it even more. Thus she committed to slow steps, which were more than ok since in that state, with blood seeping a bit too fast from its front leg, the kitten was finding it hard to move too much anyways.

Her heart, however, was still beating as quickly as before. Her fear for the feline was too palpable, running though her bloodstream and almost making her dizzy with that. Never did she stop to consider why that was going on, even more so given that Lysithea von Ordelia had never owned a pet before. Rather, she loathed cats, couldn’t see why some people loved them and swore on the Goddess herself that they were the greatest blessing ever.

In that moment in time, however, all her eyes could focus on was that small cat that was trying its best to get away from her. It didn’t strike her as odd that she was going an extra length for it, as she put an extra zip in her step when she saw it approaching the alley, then circled the animal from the side and skidded to a halt right in front of it. Watched a pair of very distinct, mesmerizing and scared lilac irises fall on hers, more dark pupil than color due to fright.

In that instant something tugged on her mind. A memory, perhaps? No, she had never seen anyone – or any animal – with eyes such as those. She would have remembered them before. Was it a dream, then? She didn’t know, but felt the distinct signs of recognition taking her over. The feeling of urgency, of something going terribly wrong and a possibility being wasted, coming back to her even stronger than before.

You ran out of time, before. Don’t do the same again.

Her own irises widened in surprise at the impact of that sentence. She tried rationalizing it, but her brain was too focused on the task at hand, at analyzing everything around her. The chilly night air, the rough pavement under her feet. The starry sky over her head and, most importantly, the cat who looked at her with so much intelligence behind that gaze, it was almost as if it belonged to a human being… or had belonged to a human being.

That thought so incredibly strange, Lysithea just shook her head and tried relaxing her stance in order to not scare the animal in front of her any further. Her sense of urgency grew when she was able to look away from its eyes and into the bleeding leg, which stood flexed in order to not touch the ground, and its side too, since the dog had also managed to puncture there with sharp claws.

“I… I don’t want to hurt you, I promise.” She uttered, sinking to her knee as slowly as she could and wincing once when she saw the cat flinch. She knew those were usually skittish creatures, but there was something about that particular one that made it even more prone to being uneasy at every small movement the girl did. Which was worrisome, as there was no way in hell she was just about to walk away and leave.

No, she had to care for it. To help it and make sure it had some sort of medical attention before that wound got infectious and…

That mental image was too much for her to bear, for some reason. The kitty in front of her was so young, so innocent-looking and pretty with its long, fluffy tail and fur, she wondered how it was still in the streets to begin with. Oh, maybe someone was searching for it. All she had to do was take it to a veterinarian and get some instructions on how to announce that it had been found and so on? She didn’t know, had never had to do something like that before.

In any case, the issue was actually getting to it without putting the animal through too much stress. Which was easier thought than done, she soon realized, as whenever she bent her body forward, or tried offering it her hand, the small feline would take a step back. Even if doing so resulted in pain.

“I know I’m a stranger to you, but please, let me help.” Lysithea said in a gentle tone, finally placing her fingertips close to its nose and waiting. Wanted to cry when a meek, high-pitched meow was the first response she got, followed by the kitty edging away from her.

“Trust me, little one. You’ll be safe with me.” She tried again, though a part of her mind was chastising her for all the time she was wasting there, talking to a cat that would never understand her to begin with.

Instead, she should be home, making sure that catering order for the wedding was being taken care of. She should be trying recipes, determining what she wanted to include in the little menu she was putting together for her café, or maybe just relaxing with a good book while another layer of the wedding cake was baking. Anything else really, but breaking her routine by trying to strike a conversation with a harmed cat.

One that was probably as scared as she was with the whole setting, but also in pain and far, far away from what it knew. Which meant the least the girl could do was offer patience, make sure the animal understood it was ok to go with her.

It took a while for things to change, for the kitty to stop trembling and glancing at her as if expecting the human to lunge at it at some point. Then, and only then, did it take a few pained steps forward and delicately sniffed the hand that had stayed there, extended, waiting for it.

A few seconds later and Lysithea was able to pet it without fear that her action would be misinterpreted. Their eyes locked all the time, the girl smiled through it all and shut down the part of her brain that wished to understand what was going on, why she felt something tug at her with the sight of that harmed kitty, of the white, red and lilac mixing on her vision, on her brain.

The colors making something else flash through her mind in a second, enough for her to wonder if she had been someplace else to begin with. The indoors of a… a fancy place. A castle, maybe? One made in grey stone and full of… of vultures in a sense. Then those colors, mingling, creating a chaos of their own amidst the already strange location. The afterimage went away when she blinked and saw nothing but pavement and a little kitty mewling for her attention, headbutting her hand as of then.

Its eyes burning as much as those strange colors did, for the brief moment they had overlapped reality.

She gasped in surprise when the cat glanced at her for a last time, its eyes holding something meaningful, something that should be private to them only, before collapsing beside her with a gruff of pain and exhaustion. Lysithea wasted no seconds cradling it in her arms, feeling how small and fragile the animal was, how its breathing was a bit too fast and blood had yet to stop tinging its legs and torso crimson.

“It’ll be alright.” She crooned, watching as its eyes gradually closed, its body going limp against her as she fumbled with it and her phone as well. She had to sit down in front of the abandoned, empty stores and for a moment felt a bit weary of the whole setting, of how the buildings towered over her and the small kitten. Had to thank her lucky stars she usually kept her phone in her pocket, taking it out and typing furiously after leaning against a wall. 

For the first time in her life she had to make a search for veterinarians around her. Cursing in a mixture of anger and anxiety when the first results were useless, either describing college courses on the subject or people who were around her. Not clinics, a hospital or wherever the hell she could take a cat that needed help ASAP.

“Come oooooon.” She mumbled, unsure if she should be relieved or not when the kitty’s breaths became softer, yet shallower too. She wished she knew what to do, how to help in those first seconds. Or even better, that she hadn’t taken too long befriending it and had yanked it to her arms, then walked away with the protesting animal instead of wasting previous minutes like that.

Though somehow, something inside of her had begged her to be patient, to bide her time and not act in haste. As if she had done so before, in a way that had cost her something too important. That thought so strong and pervasive, she wasn’t able to shake it away until she finally got the answer to her query and sighed in relief.

She didn’t know how she had missed it, according to the GPS on her phone. She apparently walked across from one of the biggest veterinary hospitals in Enbarr every single day on her way to work. Hence it would be the easiest thing ever for her to retrace her steps, careful not to go past the place she had never noticed before.

Her shoes again echoed in the pavement as she darted back, not bothering to be gentle even if the animal were to protest in her arms – which it didn’t, as it remained asleep for the rest of the way. Her entire body screaming instead, saying that she had been too late. That she had already run out of time and made a life go to waste due to her stupidity. Just as before.

Just as when?

She didn't know, couldn’t say. Blamed all those jumbled thoughts on how late it already was, how she was more than simply tired, as she had been up for a long time and had witnessed a cat getting hurt out of nowhere. Not to mention meeting Mercedes again and getting to hire her for her own café. And organizing things. And...

It had been an eventful day, all in all, she mused as she passed from a more shadowy, abandoned part of town and into a clearer, inhabited one. One that she had been to on a daily basis, ever since she moved to Enbarr and had tried to get her business going.

How interesting that her narrowed focus had made her miss on the veterinary hospital, literally a few blocks away from where she lived, almost halfway between her apartment and the soon-to-be café. It was a grand, three-story, rectangular building painted white that rivaled some human hospitals out there, complete with a bigger entrance dead center and a smaller one for the Emergency Room on its right.

Windows on the second and third floor were spaced just enough to make her think of hospital rooms, but she shook her head and had a moment of disgust at how people were treating their animals more and more as if they were human beings. There were lights on inside, though only one or two individuals came and went from the place, carrying their pets on cages and the likes.

Her eyes skimmed over those and she barely noticed how some people in white coats were eyeing the cat in her arms with care, as she turned towards the ER and rushed there, ignoring how… excessive that place looked and also her mind rambling about how unnecessary it was to have so much for pets.

Well, she couldn't really be one to talk, cradling a cat so close to her chest as if its life depended on it – though, in a sense, it probably did. She could not see it surviving those wounds on its own, without her stepping in and wrapping the wound to stop the bleeding, as she had unconsciously done on their way there.

An opinion that was agreed upon the moment she did step into the ER and was swiftly approached by the blue-haired boy, who was more than happy to call in a doctor to attend on her and pry a stirring kitten from her grasp.

She would never forget the scared, dazed look it gave her when it was taken from her arms…

A look that spelled of betrayal, of fear and regret, Lysithea thinks as she goes on pacing, her feet taking her closer and closer to the still shut door, her heartbeat speeding up after remembering everything she saw in that part of the city and wondering if she wasn’t too late.

Sure, the animal did open its eyes once it was taken – then shot her that mournful glance and a soft meow, but still. And yes, all things considered the injury isn't bad, right? Well, here’s the thing that hurts her the most: she doesn’t know. She never owned a pet, nor bothered too much with biology classes to understand what is going on with the feline, what is considered a bad wound or a good one (is there even something like a good wound?). The uncertainty of it all is what makes her mind reel, makes her envy the carefree receptionist who is indeed watching anime on his shift – she did get a glance of it once she walked somewhat behind his desk a few times, seeing four girls fighting against monsters or something – and the thought that she should be home, should be going to sleep since it is already too late and she will have a lot to do the next morning.

So much for her caring about a hurt kitten for once in her entire life.

Her stream of thoughts is interrupted when the grand wooden doors finally open, almost hitting her due to how close she is, and the same kind woman from before smiles at her. Her brown eyes don’t give away the slightest hint of the news she has yet to tell, which makes Lysithea grow even more inpatient in a matter of seconds.

“Oh hello there, I’m sorry this took so long.” The woman says, still sounding pleasant. Does it mean everything is fine? “I’m done with that little one – hm, what’s her name again?”

“I- it isn’t mine.” The girl responds, awkward. A name echoing from somewhere in her mind, but the sound is too distant for her to understand it. “I just hm… happened to be around when it was attacked by a dog.”

“She was quite the lucky kitten then.” She smiles, somewhat relieved. Rubs her hand on her long white coat, which is hanging open over a professional attire of long, cream-colored pants and low-cut, green shirt. A name tag is hanging from the left side of her coat, under a pocket. Dr. Manuela Casagranda, it says. “Why don’t you come in? I’ll tell you all about it.”

Lysithea nods, even if a part of her wants to scream at the vet for her to be quick and describe what was done so she could call it a night and leave. The cat will probably need to stay there or something, so it’s not any of her business anymore. Yet…

Yet she can’t find it in herself to just turn her back and go. Something inside of her makes her body move forward, into the pristine, white room with too many cute animal pictures framing the walls, except for the one opposite to the door, in which there are big windows that allow a beautiful view of the darkened outside world, of the streets which stand behind the hospital itself.

A light wooden desk and its three chairs (two in front, one behind) are to the left of the room, whereas the right portion of the office is occupied by a big examination table, covered in a disposable sheet that is more crimson than the neutral color it is supposed to be. Similarly, there is some gauze here and there that is just as red, though the feline lying in a peaceful slumber, so much smaller than the table itself, is completely clean of it.

“I had to clear a patch in her leg and belly in order to get a good view of the wounds and sew them up. Her fur is very, very pretty and abundant too, so it'll probably grow back soon.” Manuela says with something like admiration in her voice, as she notices Lysithea staring at the animal. “She’s also a real sweetheart, after the initial shock of being away from you and in a different place went away, she simply stayed calm and quiet as I worked. It’s rare to see a cat so young be that still. A little queen, that one.”

The young adult doesn’t know where to go, what to do about the entire thing. She wants to get closer to the cat, to thank the veterinarian and ask how much she has to pay for the entire thing. She wants to collapse on one of those chairs and breathe, something she realizes she hasn’t been doing correctly ever since the feline was taken into that pretty room. She wants to hunt down the dog that did this and punch it square in the snout.

But more than anything else, she wants to understand what the hell her mind got her into, by protecting and caring so much about an animal she just happened to see in the middle of the night.

“You’ll need to change bandages time and again for the next few days, and if necessary get one of those cones so she can’t lick the wounds at all. They’ll take a lot longer for healing if she does that.” The woman goes on, noticing how stiff and uncertain Lysithea is. “And I can offer you some meds that she might need to take to prevent an infection, what with her being bitten and so on –“

“Hm wait a second… it hm… it isn’t mine. I can’t care for it, not like that.” The girl interrupts once her mind catches up with the fact the veterinarian is giving her instructions on how to look after that kitty. “It more than likely belongs to someone, though, that’s not the kind of cat you see on the streets.”

“Oh dear, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Manuela sighs in equal part sadness and exasperation. “It’s really common nowadays to see beautiful animals like this one being completely abandoned, sometimes as soon as they’re born.” She understands the girl’s affliction though, and doesn’t want to force the cat on her but at the same time… “Usually I’d tell you that she’ll need to stay here overnight under observation, though there’s no place for her. Not with such a minor wound like that.”

“W-what do you mean? This hospital is huge, there’s no way a small thing like that can’t stay for one night.” Lysithea explodes, her heart clenching in something like fear. She thought her responsibility to the cat would be done the moment she dropped it to be taken care of.

“Indeed but we don’t just treat domestic pets around here, you know. We’re a reference center and a teaching hospital. Just today we had to send a dog back home with worse bandages than this little one, as we received quite a large number of animals today. Illegal circus and all that.” She rolls her eyes, though there is something forlorn in them as well. “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve seen and treated today and it’s been some years since the last time I was shocked by work like that.”

There is nothing the girl can do in face of that revelation. How could a cat with some scratches, easily taken care of, compare to poor, abused animals? But at the same time… she works all day long, wakes up too early and goes to bed too late. When would she have time to actually feed, pay attention to and care for the kitty?

No, that would be too cruel. There is no way that it would be a good arrangement for any of them. Something so cute and loving as that cat deserves better, a home where it would have all the love it needs.

“I… Don’t you have an adoption center or something?” She asks, already knowing what sort of answer she would get.

“We do, but she still needs someone to make sure she’s nursed back to health.” Manuela turns to fully face the girl, leaning on her desk with both hands supporting her. She sighs, tired beyond belief and wishing things could be simpler. She understands the young woman, sees the clear signs of overexertion in her face, in her entire demeanor. It’s easy to recognize that which she also does. “Listen, this is hard, I know. But can’t you just try to watch over her for a few days? We’ll place her in our adoption program once she is good and I guarantee you, you’ll have so many people coming to see her, you’ll wonder if that’s even your house.”

Lysithea is fatigued at that point. It’s too late, she doesn’t want to argue anymore. A few days, the woman said. Just a few days for the kitty to heal and be ok again. Maybe it would be easier than she is thinking, right? Then she would be free of it and her conscience would also be able to rest, knowing the little animal would have a nice life in a nice place.

Thus she relents and wordlessly nods, grimacing a bit as her mind starts wondering about how her life was about to change due to what happened that night. She has never cared for a pet before as well, so her anxiety is twofold, intensifying and almost engulfing her when she remembers that part.

“Thank you. It’s hard, I know. You didn’t plan to have an extra guest like that, all of a sudden and so on. And I can feel you have good intentions, miss…”

“Lysithea.” She answers, smiling a bit at the vet’s soothing demeanor. It’s good to be comprehended and not just taken as a heartless woman, as she’s sure Manuela has seen plenty of in her line of work.

“Lysithea. It’s a pretty name, too. But as I was saying, you weren’t planning on the extra guest and I can tell you’re a bit scared about the whole thing. Also, we need more people like you out there, actually helping wounded animals even if it’s none of their business and they just happened to stumble on it.”

The girl shakes her head, but nonetheless approaches the exam table and watches the kitten twitch a bit in its sleep. The black stitches, although neat, cover a good part of its side and leg, so Lys can’t help but wince at the sight. Only to relax a second later when she recalls how much worse it was to see all the blood on its fur.

“I’m pretty sure she’ll be more than thankful for having you as her guardian angel, too.” Manuela whispers as she watches the way the girl tentatively reaches for it, then runs a sole finger on the cat’s head. “And don’t be afraid, dear, she’s stronger than she looks. Here, I’ll give you some sort of starter kit and the meds she’ll need for a while.”

The last ten minutes or so are spent with the veterinarian explaining and demonstrating how to change bandages and clean wounds when necessary, what to expect from it and what to do if the stitches started falling off by themselves. At some point Lysithea took her phone from her pocket and furiously typed notes, more due to the fact that she was tired and afraid the instructions were going completely over her head.

After a while she sees herself clutching a lilac comforter to her chest, the sleeping cat enveloped in it and instinctively moving closer to her, its small head creeping from the thick covers. There isn't a spare cage for her to take and to be honest, Lysithea always thought those things are more restrictive than they should. It isn’t as if she has a long way to walk until she gets home anyways, so it feels like she’d be ok without one of those.

Manuela places the kit and meds into the girl’s backpack and bids her farewell, saying she doesn’t owe her anything for being a decent human being and bringing her an easy case to solve, a distraction to the chaos she had to work with that day.

The lonely girl makes her way back to her apartment through empty streets. It is past midnight after all and most houses are dark, with one or two lights marking her progression alongside lamp posts. The feline in her arms makes no sound, even when it stirs and snuggles ever so close to her; her steps and her thoughts are the only companions to the short journey. There’s no fear inside her anymore, no doubts, as the moment the cat was entrusted to her it felt as if… it belonged there. With her, like that.

She has no energy left to go through the chores she was supposed to tackle after work, nor make some food for herself, since being anxious and worried for the animal made her very, very hungry. She doesn’t even change clothes before collapsing on her bed and covering them both in a haphazard way, cat clutched to her chest as if it were a stuffed toy.

And although she thinks she is beyond the point of worrying, so exhausted her body would just fall asleep and probably make her want to hit her alarm clock until it shatters, this is completely the opposite of what happens.

Her mind doesn’t shut down, no matter how much she tries – and fails – to distract herself. Thoughts running into one another, wondering how in the blue blazes she is going to care not for any kitty, but for one that is injured. One that more than likely will make her cooking books tumble to the ground in one second, as she knows cats are prone to do, then lick its wounds open until she yells at it to stop, and oh, who knows, maybe jump through the open window, as her house isn’t adapted to safely host an animal.

On and on it goes. It doesn’t stop even when she counts sheep, uninjured white cats and layers of wedding cakes. She can’t afford to toss and turn around, as there is indeed a living, breathing animal close to her, one that she doesn’t want to hurt any more than it already is, but being immobile like that also drives her crazy.

“I need to sleep.” She mumbles at one point or another, almost pleading her brain to stop that nonsense and allow her to rest. She would figure everything out later. The next day, the one after that. She doesn’t need to have all the answers, or more questions, in the middle of the night. Right?

No, her brain doesn’t agree with that. Whenever the kitty as much as breathes a bit too deeply, her eyes shoot open in order to make sure it’s ok (and it always is, too). The one moment in which it moves, placing the uninjured paw out of the duvet, Lysithea feels her heart race and waits, observes, watches in fear at what it would do next (which is absolutely nothing).

She doesn’t remember when exactly her mind decides too much is too much, as the hours run together and she can’t even tell for how long her eyes have been shut while she was still awake. What she does get for her troubles, however, is another dream.

Lysithea ran, ran as fast as she could once the sound of her classmates talking in loud, panicked voices came to her. That per se wasn’t new, as since the night the Imperial Army attacked the Holy Tomb everyone had been completely on edge, almost as if waiting for something else to happen. For a grand finale, of sorts, or another bout on the monastery’s defenses.

On that day there had been a new, distinctly fearful quality to those shouts, though. Something that pierced through the air even before the yells themselves reached her, the shift in energy so clear, her own dark magic answered to it. To the despair and anxiety of those that had never been in an actual battle before. At least not a serious one that could cost them their very lives if they were careless.

She cut through students taller than her as she made her way across the packed outside area around the dormitories, trying to get into the gist of the action, to see more. Her feet first scrunching against verdant grass, then snapping into pavement as she got to the lake. There she already met some resistance, saw Knights of Seiros in their dull armors and expressionless faces lining up and start marching. A few students were there too, at the ready, pegasi and wyverns waiting for the first command to soar into the air and deal with whatever was going on.

Not that it took a genius to find out what it was. The few shouted instructions she was able to intercept every now and then already making her weave her own version of the story while she darted around legs, lances and axes poised to strike. Eager to draw blood, to defend what was theirs against the one who had dared to defy the almighty Church of Seiros.

The one that had the means and the drive to see that organization burning down to the ground, if what she had heard of the Emperor’s manifesto was true. Now what was left, what they were about to experience today, was to see if she also had the power to bring her ideals into fruition.

Lysithea’s legs found better purchase the more she heard the protests and words thrown into the wind by the ones who would try to stop the Empire’s advance. Most called Edelgard mad, or troubled. Some cursed her existence, that of her predecessors and even her father. The young mage found herself reeling from all of that. Wanting to make them shut up and stop talking about what they didn’t know.

She didn’t care about their words. About the light in which the church had been trying to paint Edelgard after what had happened at the Holy Tomb. And although she was sure she only knew a part of the story, the part that was similar to her own, all she wished was to…

To do what?

Well. She wanted to see her again. To look at those lilac eyes and plead with her to stop, to talk things through. To see if she had been right before and an echo of the pain which was always in her own irises would be in the Emperor’s, too. Pain, yes, but something else. Urgency, perhaps.

You’ve already run out of time. There’s no turning back.

She didn’t want that to be true. Yet as she arrived at the marketplace, peered through the front gates and watched as two similar shocks of green hair stood there, already bracing themselves for the final act, she had the sinking feeling there was nothing she could do. That she had indeed run out of time – and not for herself, not due to her lifespan. But for… the two of them. For the one person who would understand her predicament, even if only in a small way.

The only one she had even considered talking to about her past.

The time for exchanging words and seeking solace was over, though. In the blink of an eye she was no longer behind the gates of Garreg Mach, but a few steps away from Edelgard herself. The Golden Deer had been able to help and stall the conflict, take it away from the main gates and as far into the Oghma mountains as possible, undermining the Imperial troops as much as they could. Their professor again proving a great combatant, her emerald green hair dancing in the wind, Sword of the Creator shining crimson under the intense sunlight, with all the blood it had already shed.

She couldn’t understand how things had shifted so completely, in so little time. How the clear morning skies which had promised a calm day now wept arrows, spells and charred pegasi feathers around soldiers. How she was now surrounded by signs of death, her body burning under the pull of magic, a taste of remorse and regret hanging heavily on her throat.

They were almost there, almost zeroing in on the Emperor and her vassal, the generals which stood beside her. Lysithea was the first to creep closer, using tall, unharmed trees as cover so she would not be spotted by any enemies. Not so much because she was afraid of getting hurt, but since she didn’t want to hurt them instead.

The idea of not completely antagonizing the Empire, a possibility that had remained in her brain during the entire fight. Therefore, more than once she had ignored the professor’s orders and bolted somewhere else, weakened her spells in the last possible minute and allowed a warrior or another to live. No, they shouldn’t be fighting to begin with.

She didn’t want to fight her. Nor would she, ever.

Lysithea battled against the smell of death, of decay and blood which already coated the village, the mountain and the charred houses around them. She wondered how the people that had resided there were, if they had been taken to safety in due time. Her eyes always attentive to the smallest of movement, to any sign of life that was still there, that could be in danger.

What she got instead, after her irises went to the front of the battlefield, was a pair of focused lilac eyes measuring her. Trying to understand her intentions, why she hadn’t just attacked them, as she had been there for quote a while. More than once Edelgard and Lysithea had come close to one another, then danced away as if repelled. Not by each other, but by the entire notion of having to be on opposing sides.

It was no different right then. Yet their gazes held for a longer time, both silently pleading with the other.

_Stop. We can talk through this. You don’t have to do what you don’t want to, what they have asked you to_. Lysithea thought, tears gathering and stinging as they remained unshed.

_I want this. I need this. You… you wouldn’t understand, little one._ Edelgard answered, averting her glance at the last part of her sentence as she lifted her axe high.

Usually she would protest at being belittled, but that was not a usual day. It was a fight she didn’t want to be in, against someone she would rather not have to face. They were too far away from one another as well, so that motion didn’t scare Lysithea at all. Didn’t make her react or draw a spell, even if her training told her she should do so.

She knew her magic would be able to tear through the Emperor’s armor, just as much as their eyes had torn at one another seconds before. Instead she just looked, and cried, even as a second later Edelgard turned her back on the young mage and directed her troops elsewhere.

So she wept as the battle went on. As the monastery forces advanced and ended up utterly dominating that skirmish. She watched and, just like the sky above her, she'd tears for what could have been. For what had been shattered by her own inability to go and talk to the House Leader, to begin with. For letting her fear speak louder than words.

Her tears did dry, however, when Professor Byleth was about to draw her sword and strike down the Emperor once and for all. From her vantage point, she had watched the two fight. Both were tired, their movements sluggish and imprecise, missing more than hitting. That moment, though, there was no mistake or hesitation.

The sword would hit if it went on in that direction, she knew. Thus Lysithea did something she never thought she would. She summoned a Miasma into her palm, feeling the drain of dark magic on her entire body, aimed as fast as she could, and then…

Short, sweet sounds break into the stream of her dream. Lysithea opens her eyes in fear and shock, breath shallow and rushed. For a second she is disoriented, jumbled images and sounds taking her over, though as always she is unable to recall anything at all. Trying to understand what is going on, where she is and why there are tears in her eyes, a name on her lips.

And a very solicitous white cat peering at her so intensely, concern etching those big lilac eyes, that she can’t help but finally let tears flow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, did I say I wanted this to be short and sweet? Yes. Will it still be? Hm... yeah but brain likes angst, so forgive me.  
> Also let's give Lysithea a warm welcome to the world of cat owners. She'll need some luck with that one xDDD
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysithea has to deal with a healing kitty and her fears about properly caring for it. Some dreams and intuitions come forth as well, confusing her at best.  
> Nevertheless, after too much debate she decides to rest the slightest - and is rewarded with the best mornings of her life.

A name echoes in Lysithea’s mind for no apparent reason while the dream recedes into the same nothingness it always does when she wakes up. As if a part of her mind is keeping her from something she isn’t supposed to remember, something a different, albeit smaller portion of her wants to recall. The battle is endless and leaves her tired, short of breath, heart thundering in her chest. And the name, just as everything else, is nothing more than an impression on a dazed brain.

All those rivulets of feelings and colors and sights somewhat torments her until a rough tongue delicately laps at her fingers. The girl bolts, sitting ramrod straight in her bed, then looks down to the side to meet inquisitive, concerned lilac eyes that belong to…

The kitty. The kitty she was forced to bring home from the night before, after that stupidly huge veterinary hospital told her they had no place for it. Which means that wasn’t a fever dream or something that was in her mind before going to sleep, it actually happened and now she would have another mouth to feed, arrangements to be made to her house and extra things to be placed around.

She reels, sighs and tentatively puts a hand on the cat’s head. She was told not to be scared while petting and other things, or else the feline would easily pick at her mood and more than likely deem her unworthy.  _ Get in line, little one, s _ he thinks, then humorlessly chuckles while reveling in how soft the abundant white fur feels like under her palm.

“Good morning to you, too.” Lysithea mumbles after the kitty meows, stretches by arching its back and closing its eyes for a second, then sitting and looking down at its bandaged leg and side. “Oh please don’t claw away at those, I’ll still have to look at some tutorials and my notes to make sure I’ll be able to do them right.”

It is a relief when the cat looks away after simply sniffling and using its other paw to feel it. The girl can’t help but stare and wonder for a small second if the animal actually understood her words. Then shakes her head and orders herself to not be stupid.

Of course it can’t. It’s just a damn kitty that is hurt and probably uninterested in those things wrapped around its body. At least it means she won’t have to fasten the cone around its neck anytime soon, if it goes on like that.

Her alarm sounds a heartbeat later, making her jump in fright for the second time in that day, though she finds herself giggling the moment the cat hisses, its fluffy tail standing up to attention and becoming bigger. She puts a placating finger on its head and shushes slightly, trying her best to stop laughing while her other hand fumbles with the clock and makes it stop sounding.

“You’re fine, it’s just a silly thing to wake me up.” She groans at how early it is, how little sleep she has got and how troubled it was, too. Nevertheless, a day is a day and she has even more stuff to do now. “Come, I’ll give you food before grabbing something for myself… Ugh, then make that cake, those appetizers and…”

She gets to her feet and watches as the kitty carefully eyes the distance between the mattress and the floor; it is about to jump when Lysithea thinks better on the entire matter and simply scoops it into her arms. Then giggles some more as the kitty makes a small sound of surprise and turns to look at her with scared eyes. The same feeling thuds inside her heart as she questions if she’s holding it the right way, or if her hands being so close to the bandaged wound on its side means she’s causing it too much pain.

Only to sigh in relief a second later once the cat melts into her touch and lets itself be carried, suddenly no longer afraid and a lot more trusting than before.

She could do that, she thinks. She could care for a small kitty that fit well between her two hands for a while before it is adopted, right? Even if it means she’ll have to go back home a few times during the day to check on it, to make sure it hasn’t destroyed the house or something of the sorts.

“You’ll be the death of me, you know?” Lys whispers, making her way through her room and to the living room, where she catches sight of her huge backpack and remembers packing the kit Doctor Manuela gave her in there. Good, she has to settle things around her house, make it more cat-friendly in a way, then close her windows just in case. The last thing she wants is to come back to an empty apartment and an even more hurt cat lying on the ground outside of her building.

She bursts out laughing the next second, her thoughts getting interrupted by the cat’s accusatory expression, the way its ears are driven backwards and lilac irises are narrowed as if saying,  _ now look at who is talking _ .

“If you want to blame me for something, then wait until later.” She retorts, grateful she lives alone or else people would more than likely think she is going insane, talking to an animal in that manner. “You should thank me I was there to save you from that stupid dog.”

Lysithea stops in her track then, for she swears the feline responded to that by looking away and twitching its fluffy tail in annoyance. The girl is about to formulate an interpretation for that act, or to think some more about it, but at the end decides it’s better to not get carried away like that on day one of mission Take Care of the Kitty. Rather, she crouches and places the animal on the floor again before getting into the kitchen, gracing its head with a last pat. She turns to her pack and grabs it, taking everything the veterinarian gave her last night.

A few minutes later and the apartment windows are shut, there is a bowl with water and another of (mostly untouched) dry cat food beside the dining table over some newspapers just in case. Lysithea sips from a silver cup of bergamot tea, adorned with small golden moons and black cats, while making a mental list of all she would need to get for her new companion. She leans against the kitchen counter and stops for a second in order to organize those things in her mind, even if part of her is already itching to get the day started, to get some cooking done.

One step at a time, though, she reminds herself when the kitten walks into the room. Its gait is unstable and it half stumbles, half limps in an attempt to not place the harmed paw on the floor. While that is indeed a wise choice, it still makes things difficult and a second’s hesitation results in the cat mewling in surprise as it tumbles and falls face first into the cold, white floor.

“It’ll be like that for a bit, but you’ll get better soon I hope.” Lys soothes, sets her mug aside and gets the cat into her arms again, holding it close to her chest. For someone who never owned a pet before, she is being too affectionate and that would do no good at all.

It would be the worst thing ever if the animal got attached to her and didn’t want to go away once a nice family or whatever adopted it. Shaking her head, she places the kitty over the counter and turns away to get some ingredients for the canapés she thought about making last afternoon, which does sound like a good addition to the menu she would offer for that event. She opens the fridge and gets a hold of some cheese, only to freeze in place once a lapping sound reaches her ears.

_ No, it can’t be that- _

It can and it is. As she turns to look at the cat again, she sees it blissfully sipping from the tea – her tea – which was left beside it for one small moment. Lysithea doesn’t know whether to giggle at the view, of how it seems to actually enjoy the beverage way more than it should, or to scold the animal and feel bad about it later. In the end she goes for neither and simply shoos the kitty away with her hand, not making contact with it or anything of the sorts, then picks up her mug and the water bowl she set earlier. Dropping the untouched water into the sink, she then pours the remnants of her bergamot tea into the bowl and sets it down beside the kitty.

“There now, you have your own to drink. Of course I had to get a strange cat.” She mutters to herself while washing the mug and getting ready to make some more for herself. She swears she hears a bit of a hiss, sees something of an attitude in the animal’s eyes. Again, she dismisses it as her being incredibly tired before turning back to what she is supposed to be doing to begin with.

Ah yes, it is cooking time. She groans, turns around to grab some ingredients at last, the sound alerting the kitty to her distress and making it approach her slowly, ever so careful to not fall to the ground from a raised surface this time. Lys yelps in surprise when a small head touches the back of her arm, soft and tender instead of pressing and imposing.

She gives it a small smile before putting it down on the floor just in case, internally melting at the meow she receives at that, then tries getting back to work as much as she can in any case.

Her eyes are always drawn to the small one, though. While she stirs flour, sugar and milk for a simple dough, her gaze leaves the bowl in front of her to search for the feline. She keeps watching as it looks around curiously, mapping the place it was taken to last night.

Nothing to worry there, she muses since she did hear that cats are somewhat territorial. Too late, she turns back to what she is stirring and mentally chastises herself once some of the dough spills due to her being inattentive for a second too long. Yes, living with someone else would take some getting used to. Even if that someone wasn’t human at all.

In the end she can feel her morning groove a bit altered by that novelty, but that was to be expected. She does manage to work on another layer of the cake and start lining up possibilities for the filling and cream she wants around it, as well as how to decorate and maybe if it should be colored (then what colors would best fit the theme and so on). By the time the clock strikes six, the baker rolls her eyes at the amount of dishes that have accumulated on the sink and the fact that soon enough her biggest challenge for that day would begin.

And no, it isn’t going to work at all, but leaving the (still unnamed) kitty by itself in her house. After watching it glance at everything with enough interest to justify the saying “curiosity killed the cat” and how it fell at least twice due to its bandages, she isn’t too sure it’s a good idea to abandon it like that.

She stops for a moment between the kitchen and the living room, feeling torn. It is interesting how her body is almost going through the motions, through habits it ended up internalizing after years upon years of making the same thing each and every day. Get up, cook for catering, grab whatever – or nothing at all – for breakfast, hit the road, file in for work and spend the day away juggling orders and trays, burning her hands on pastries that still need to really cool down.

How many years did she live like that, her motions, mood and thoughts dictated by the ticking of a clock? She started catering a bit in her third year of high school, then got a job at local bakeries, cafés and restaurants which were more than eager to exploit her name and fame to bring in customers during year four.

And although her parents kept saying it was ok, that she didn’t need to help with her income and the three of them could survive comfortably with what little money they made, she knew the truth about that, how they plunged themselves in debts when she was younger so she could get the best education and cooking classes ever.

That was what drove her to seek and stay at work even when she was completely exhausted, in need of a break. The fact she did indeed ignore those signs until an urgent change was necessary was just a testament to who she was, after all.

It is strange, then, that this morning in particular finds Lysithea glaring at the clock, at her hands that are halfway through checking her phone for any work-related messages and at her mind for planning what she should wear. Her feet take her to the bedroom, but she is more aware of the fact that the kitty is following her than that she is supposed to gather her things and leave for another day.

She stops herself and shakes her head midway through the corridor, chuckling as the cat bumps against her leg since it wasn’t expecting that sudden halt. Why is she doing that? There is no boss to tell her she is late or will have her income cut by half if she continues to deny working extra hours. There are no customers to attend and no one to complain if she didn’t make their favorite dessert in days she usually would, because her mind was elsewhere and she didn’t want to bake the same thing again. There is no one there to make her feel bad about being tired, about needing a day off or not getting the same drive to cook that she had before.

That is why she moved away from Derdriu, isn’t it? To start anew, to be her own chief and make things her way, in her own time. So what is she doing, forcing herself to follow the same routine as before?

“There is no need for this. Actually, today of all days…” She stops, stares at the bathroom which is located on the end of the hallway and thinks aloud. “I only have some things to receive at three pm and one interview at four. Should I give everything an extra cleaning, even though I did it yesterday? Ugh… there really isn’t any reason for me to.”

Lysithea turns around and faces an equally broody kitty, one that tilts its head to the side as if wanting to hear more about it. She laughs at her own thoughts about the feline, then bends her back so she can get closer to it.

“You know what? Just because of you I won’t go to work so soon. Hell, I do need to make up for the lost time yesterday, which is totally your fault anyways. There’s a lot of cooking to tackle, which I won’t be able to do there.” She reasons to herself, extends a hand and softly touches the cat’s nose. “And also well, I don’t want to leave you alone for that long. Who knows what you’ll do to the apartment while I’m gone.”

The kitty twitches its nose in disagreement or something of the sorts, which makes the baker giggle again. Who knew that life with a pet could be so much fun. And if all cats were like this one, they aren't half as bad as she thought.

“C’mon, Edelgard, let’s- “

She is about to get up and run back to the kitchen when she hears herself say that and stops, both astonished by how naturally that name comes to her lips and the feelings it brings, too. How the cat’s eyes widen and it meows, in recognition of acceptance of that too.

Lysithea’s heart clenches and painfully tugs against her chest. It soon becomes too much, even more so when tears spring to her eyes and she suddenly feels sad, sadder than she felt she had a right to be given the circumstances. What is going on with her? Everything was fine a minute ago and now this, these emotions that try to drown her under their intensity, so many that she can’t name even if she tries to.

And amidst them all, the strongest is regret, regret for lost time, for a lost opportunity, for words that weren’t lost to the wind, but to her own mind since she didn’t utter them as she should have. For a misunderstanding that proved to be too much, the mistake too costly to be just accepted.

Instead of getting to her feet Lysithea collapses on the floor with the weight of those feelings, the waves of emotion and disconnected thoughts that flow through and around her, the fact she can’t remember what brought this on both a blessing and a curse. The kitty which approaches her tries to get her attention by placing a soft, unharmed paw over her crossed legs and looking directly at her, its pupils dilated since the sun doesn’t really reach the hallway and it is somewhat dark.

Not as dark as the girl’s mind and all the mysteries she can’t unravel, yet wonders if she should even want to.

It takes a while and a few hand licks for her to shake off that ominous sensation and shrug, finally go back to her knees and then to her feet. It is a good thing she doesn’t want to get to work at her usual hour, as her timing is completely off already and she would have to rush there, or speed through morning chores, in order to keep everything in check.

The need to do so somehow disappears from her mind, is deemed as irrelevant after that little moment she spends on the floor, overcome with all that is and isn’t hers to feel. Nevertheless, she sighs, wishes she could get some clarity about what is going on and returns to the kitchen with a white, talkative kitty at her side.

Before she finishes drinking the glass of water she sets out for herself, eyes intent on the feline that is playing with her dragon-shaped slippers, she decides that yes, it would be called Edelgard for now on, as the name apparently has some meaning for her. For the two of them, maybe. 

Lysithea can't remember the last time she had such a chill morning or day. She hums to herself while turning off the oven, then looks to the side and appraises the cake she has just finished baking and decorating, too. 

It is tall, five layers total with each one getting smaller and smaller the taller it is, ending in an edible red rose that covers all of the top. The cream over the simple, delicious sponge cake is white, decorated with indigo blue streaks on sides and borders, around tinier, equally edible flowers that surround it. The last detail, the one that is Lysithea's signature touch, is a rose sculpted in white chocolate, which the baker places at the plate itself. 

She edges away from the kitchen counter and beams to herself in rare appreciation of her own work. A glance to the floor reveals that Edelgard is trying to do the same, sitting down on her hind legs and craning not only her neck, but her entire body in order to take a closer look. A smile colors her face at that, at how curious and attentive the little animal seems to be not only when she’s cooking, but also reading a book, making notes or just doing some research on her computer. 

A few days have passed since that first, strange morning with the cat in her house. It is strange to think how she even used to live before that feline came into her life, in a sense. She bends her knee to scoop it up and receives a meow at that, then beams even wider when she notices the cat’s beautiful lilac irises are mesmerized at the cake, too. 

“Do you think they’ll like it? Their wedding will be tomorrow and they seem to be a nice enough couple.” Lys whispers, turning to look at Edelgard. It doesn’t matter that the kitty always gives her its undivided attention whenever she is speaking, the act always takes her aback. “They’ll come in a few hours so don’t be scared, ok?”

Instead of setting the cat back on the floor and making sure the apartment is tidy or something, she simply strolls out of the kitchen and plops down on the dark purple couch she no longer neglects, the cat more than happy to perch on her lap as she grabs her phone and a book, then gets through her morning ritual of reading with some music on. Her hand instinctively curls on the cat’s white fur, fingers lightly tracing the outline of the wounds that are healing faster than she thought they would, before moving to caress behind its ears and under its neck. 

That is another morning that sees her free from early hours at work, from doing nothing around the café while waiting for the occasional delivery to be received or job interview to be done. Rather, she is more than happy to be comforted by the kitty’s soft purs and close, silent presence. Sure, she has just woken up from another one of those strange dreams she can barely remember later, but that is fine. Nothing is better than the feeling of relaxation after taking care of business earlier on. 

Those last few days were just like that, since no matter how much it seems that Edelgard will behave and not destroy the house - or injure herself - in Lys’s absence, her mind doesn’t want to find out how right or wrong she might be. Sure, so she is forced to tend to her café in the afternoons but yes, at least when she returns home for the night there is still a kitty and a home to come back to. 

The thought makes her put the book down and turn to face the animal in her lap, curled up, head tilted to the side as if asking her a silent question. Almost as if it were reading as well. She wonders how much she isn’t using the animal as an excuse not to others, but to herself, something to justify her need for a rest and for taking things easier. Clearly moving to Enbarr, although a nice change of airs, did not bring about the change of pace she envisioned it would. 

And clearly the reason for it is that the same person ended up moving to a different city. No matter where she is in the world, things wouldn't change if she didn’t take the first step herself. She would always be Lysithea von Ordelia, even if she happened to be living on the moon. So yes, maybe she should focus more on how she goes about things than on where she is attempting to make her life work out.

It was hard to accept that she would need to go about her days in another way, at first. Her mind called her lazy, rebuking her for not being at the not-still-opened café as soon as the sun was up, cleaning it just in case. Or why she wasn’t trying another recipe to be added to her menu at some point in time, looking at other things she could do to get her little place advertised or searching for more utensils she would need, cookers she should hire and so on, so forth. 

Yet all it takes is one glance at the new life that is now her responsibility for her pressing, smothering thoughts to be quieted down. Each day it is easier than the last to pay them no mind, to notice how different, how  _ good  _ it feels to ignore an overworking mind. On how amazing it is to have time to read, something she hasn’t done since middle school - and back then, most of her books were related to cooking.

Hell, Lysithea even started following a stretching program online after day two of her staying home during the mornings and was surprised with it. She has had some lower back and leg pain for years, maybe the result of standing up for too many hours every single day. Sure, it is a tad early to say that her aches have been miraculously healed, but they are noticeably less present in a sense. 

Yet no matter how nice it all is, how free a part of her feels, there is still a portion of her mind that wants to pressure her into being productive, into putting herself out there, into making sure she and her parents will never be in a bad place financially. She shakes her head against it, in a bout of self-deprecation asks herself if once wasn’t enough. If her breakdown of sorts before moving to Enbarr, plus the fact she had to stay at home most of the time after that episode didn’t teach her a lesson about overdoing.

“Old habits do die hard.” She whispers, petting the cat more due to a need to soothe herself than anything else. Her brain wouldn’t give up so easily, she knew. And maybe for a while she would need to rely on the excuse of caring for a small animal in order to make those ideas shut down even if for only a moment.

Lysithea knows better than to think that would last forever. Regardless, she decides she will deal with the issue when it arrives and places both palms on the kitten’s midsection before gently turning it over, a daily habit as she checks the bandages. Luckily for her, she met with doctor Manuela a few days before and was able to get another crash course on how to change them, something that isn’t as hard as she thought at first (the whole difficulty was probably attributed by her stressed out brain on that first night).

She nods at how clean they are and how docile the animal takes it, then rubs its belly affectionately as if to make up for her need to inspect. They have an appointment scheduled three days from there, when Manuela will appraise it and make sure Edelgard is put on their adoption program if it is well enough.

The idea seems a bit jarring, though she has too much on her mind in order to wonder why. She shakes her head and sighs, letting the cat crawl back to her lap as the sentence, that accursed sentence, repeats itself again.

_ You are running out of time.  _

No she isn’t, she won’t anymore. She fights back, almost begging herself to relax, to stop looking for trouble when there is none and to not go find something more to do. Edelgard places a paw on her crossed legs and meows, as if sensing her distress and her need to drown her thoughts, her worries, her every waking hour in tasks so she would, maybe one day, feel like she did enough. 

It isn’t lost on her how the cake, which she hands to a Byleth Eisner and her fiancée Dorothea a few minutes later, is the prettiest one she has done in years. No, scratch that, it is the prettiest one ever, in her entire career perhaps. It surely is the only cake she ended up taking pictures of and promising to send them to the wives soon after. The same can be said about the entrées, the dishes and finger food she managed to make in the record time of one and a half days, between reading a novel and watching some series as well. 

Just the other morning she woke up without an alarm clock and was singing while cooking, even if in the end the dish she was preparing was something she usually made for weddings and nothing new at all.

As the couple leaves with thankful smiles and a nice pet to the kitty that insisted on accompanying their every movement, Lysithea twirls around at another completed order and realizes she has nothing more to do for the rest of the day. 

Wait, she doesn't? It feels surreal to think so, thus she ends the spin a tad too close to an amused Edelgard and paces away to the living room, making a list of things she usually would tend to during the day. 

“The ovens are delayed, so they will be delivered tomorrow. Today’s interview is no more since they rescheduled, hm… The café is clean enough as it is and the menus are almost ready. Mercedes said she would help me with designs and something about her wife, but that will be next week.” She spins again, giggling as if she were a child. The child she wasn’t allowed to be back then, when her every moment was filled with cooking classes and school. “Edelgard, I think we can have a day to ourselves! C’mon, help me choose what to make in celebration.”

She chuckles even more when she realizes that the cat is really dashing towards the middle of the living room, where she is. And, what is even harder to believe, that she genuinely feels like cooking something new, something different, just to have fun and for herself. For once she isn’t about to search for a fancy recipe that could please her parents, her customers in the stupid bakery she is working at or any judges staring at her as if she were the scum of the earth in a competition. 

For this time she is going to please none other than herself. So Lys falls to the floor after tiring from the twirling and lies on her back, knees folded and supporting most of her weight, hands on her phone as she launches the browser and starts looking for a nice recipe for her to engage in.

A chuckle escapes her lips a few seconds later, the moment the cat stops beside her and delicately leaps over her stomach. Its paws are tentative and delicate as it turns around and plops down facing her, its eyes intent on her face, scrutinizing the emotions in the girl’s pink irises.

Apparently it finds something it likes, since it mews in contentment before laying its head over forelegs, content to watch and stare while Lysithea mumbles and searches for what her mind and body want her to bake.

“Vanilla cupcakes with chocolate ganache, that reminds me a bit too much of those stupid bakeries in Derdriu. Cookie butter cheesecake, eh, I’d have to go out and buy some ingredients for that and I don’t want to. Pain au chocolat with lemon zest, nice but lengthy to make and I don’t know about you, El, but I’d rather have it – What is it?”

She is cut short by a high-pitched, sweet sound, something between a purr and a proper meow. The girl lowers her mobile in order to glance at the kitty and is astounded to see how happy it seems to be, if such feelings can actually be seen in felines. She doesn’t know if that’s her projecting since she has been feeling better these last few days, or if something she did pleased the animal, but those lilac irises look incredibly more beautiful, in a way.

“Well you do seem to be ok.” Lys whispers a few seconds later, once the kitty begins kneading her belly in a soft way. “Maybe you just like the suggestions as much as I do.”

Shrugging, she goes back to all the websites she usually consults for nice recipes, some that she knows are good, reliable and were tested by chefs before – or came from amazing bakers too. Sadly, Mercedes doesn’t keep an internet page for her stuff and Lys adds a mental note to propose they should make one together. The woman is nice enough, she thinks, and if she doesn’t want to do it, she would just let her down easily. It is no big deal anyways.

They are about to give up on that endeavor and take a nap on the floor when Lysithea stumbles into a rather unknown, mysterious, odd-looking recipe she has never seen before. Her eyes spring to attention and maybe even the cat feels the shift in her mood since it raises its head inquisitively a second later.

“Now this does sound interesting. ‘Saghert and Cream, a legendary baked confection that is depicted in some paintings of the royalty in all parts of Fódlan. Unfortunately, the recipe was lost to time and all the adaptations which were done in order to ensure that not only nobles, but everyone else could enjoy it. The only known part is that it was a cobbler’ – well that isn’t really helpful, is it?” She stops, wondering why the idea to try that fills her with so much joy, as if something in her is answering to the name and description alone.

Even Edelgard mews in excitement, getting to a sitting position before Lysithea can move underneath her. It literally guides her to the kitchen, almost darting that way and purring; maybe it would be jumping if it weren’t still hurt. The young baker can’t help but laugh at that playfulness, a contrast to how fearful and silent the animal was the first few days they were together. Though if truth be told, back then she was even more afraid of the whole deal than the feline, all things considered.

She beams, picking it up and placing it over the counter before washing her hands and taking out some ingredients for baking. She decides to go for the recipe that the website suggests, intuition making her stop and reconsider some of the components before even puts them beside the sink. The oven is preheating as she greases a baking dish, then slices peaches into tiny cubes and keeps them for later.

The cat watches from the spot it has claimed for itself next to the fridge, far from the oven and in a position where it won’t bother Lysithea at all. The girl glances at her and beams, thinking how considerate it is while mixing flour, sugar, a pinch of salt and baking powder in a medium-sized, purple bowl that has been with her since she was a kid. Milk is added slowly, making sure everything is well-combined, though a part of her already wonders if that is how those bakers of ye olde Fódlan did it.

The mixture is spread evenly in the baking dish and she turns back to the peaches, wondering if she has enough. Nevertheless, she boils those with some sugar, nutmeg and a pinch of salt, then adds a bit of lemon juice for extra taste. She wrinkles her nose when intuition and a low chirp from Edelgard alert her that it is not the recipe she wants, but even so, she pours that over the batter and sprinkles some extra cinnamon on top before putting it in the oven.

“That isn’t the traditional Saghert and Cream, is it?” She faces the cat and inquires, giggles when the feline turns its ears back. “Well the recipe  _ is  _ lost, but I wonder if we couldn’t really make something that feels like it. Time for the cream now, if you behave I’ll let you lick some of it.”

Lysithea would need to make a fruit cream, something she isn’t really a fan of doing given how many utensils it requires – and the fact she doesn’t really have blueberries for that. Moreover, she doesn’t think that is actually the fruit that would go best with the peaches to begin with, so she disregards that and goes for a simple vanilla whipped cream with lemon zest and some sugar too.

It’s easy to lose track of time like that, or of reality in itself. Hence the girl is surprised to find out she is humming as she turns off her mixer and makes sure the cream isn’t over or underwhipped – not that she has to, she has known how to get to the perfect point since she was no older than four. The act is a mere habit born from repetition, plus years working in bakeries and cafés that badgered her to make perfect cream every time.

The entire apartment is overflown with the sweet smell of baking biscuit and peaches. She has a while to wait and places the cream in the fridge to keep it cool, then picks up the cat and laughs at its expression, ears turned away and tail sweeping a bit wildly, before putting it on the floor.

“Well then, if you think you can do better please be my guest. Or tell me what the real ingredients from the past are.” Lysithea jokes and snickers the moment she is answered with a peeved meow. One that apparently said,  _ ok then, I shall take your challenge. _

The dessert is sweet and calming by itself, but nothing is better than the fact that she has a sleepy cat on her lap and the view of a clear, beautiful morning sky in front of her the moment she sits down on the couch to savor it.

“There you are, what a well-behaved little kitty.” Manuela says, nodding appreciatively and humming low in her throat.

It is night as the appointment goes by and the two women are close to the examination table, back in Manuela's office. The veterinarian has just removed the bandages that Lysithea cleansed and changed last night. The two are pleased to see that not only the stitches have fallen without any prodding, but also that the wound is clean and the scar isn’t too stretched on its side, nor is the skin too thin that could easily be reopened.

Manuela mutters some more while appraising and poking it with a gloved hand, then asks Lys to distract the feline before applying some pressure to the wound and measuring Edelgard’s response (the woman was elated to hear that it has been named, too, and to see how close the two are. It’s rare for someone to bring an animal without a cage, the way the baker did, and how the cat was more than happy to just lay on Lysithea’s lap and keep watch until their appointment).

There is little more to do after it but ask the girl about any fevers, unusual behaviors and other small things that first-time pet caretakers sometimes miss, like sleeping patterns and level of activity. Hence she is quick to take off her gloves and discard them, finishing the examination no more than twenty minutes after it started.

“This healed very nicely, to be honest. And according to everything you said, she is more than just healthy.” The vet pats the kitty and is rewarded with a small meow. “She isn’t as vocal as most kittens but that is ok, cats are very unique even in regards to that. How’s her appetite going?”

“Oh it’s really good I think. I followed your recommendations about feeding times and portions too and she doesn’t ask me for more anyways.” Lysithea grins, hiding the fact the cat is more than fond of sweet creams, cheese and even some chocolate ganache between meals. No veterinarian in the world, no matter how fun and easy-going, would approve of that and certainly Manuela wouldn’t be the first.

“That’s nice. So, come and have a seat. Grab Edelgard if you want to.” The doctor gestures at the two chairs in front of her desk and they move to it, abandoning the examination table.

The white lights around the office are clear and strong, just as they were the first night Lysithea was there, but differently from that other visitation she is a lot calmer, happier. More relaxed, in a sense, and this isn’t lost on Manuela too. The vet watches how tenderly the girl cares for an animal that isn’t even her own to begin with, not technically anyways, and wonders if she might have changed her mind about a certain something.

“First and foremost, I would like to thank you for caring for this little one as you did.” The woman starts with a pleasant smile that does radiate gratitude – or maybe it’s the light that creates that halo around her features, making a contrast to the dark night that Lysithea can see through the windows, as she is facing those in her chair. “It’s rare to see people not only rescuing, but keeping an animal like that while it heals and also doing their very best to make sure everything is fine. I think I said this the first time we met, but we need more people like you in this world.”

“It was nothing, really. She needed someone and I was there, so that’s all.” Lys retorts in a soft voice, looking down at her lap and beaming as she realizes Edelgard is curling up against her again, its back pressed against her body.

“Even so, don’t sell yourself short. I’ve been in this business for long enough to say it’s not every day we come across nice individuals like you – and please take my compliment, you deserve it.” She presses the moment Lysithea opens her mouth to refuse. Both snicker at it, even if only for a moment, until Manuela’s face becomes more serious again. “So, now that she’s completely healed I’ll put her in the adoption program and all you have to do is wait for a nice owner to come along, ok? Since she’s technically yours by now, we’ll leave the final decision completely up to you and will just get you in contact with people who might be interested in this little angel.”

The veterinarian goes on, but Lysithea doesn’t hear any more of it. Her heart lurches with something like pain and longing, the same feeling about losing time lodging itself there and making each and every heartbeat ache in a new, different way. One look to her lap is all that she needs for those to intensify and get even worse than before.

Yet her face remains the same, a small smile locked into it while she thanks the woman and fills a paper with information regarding her address and phone number, so she could be reached by those who took an interest in little Edelgard. Photos are taken, last recommendations given and a few minutes later Lysithea leaves the veterinary hospital with a slumbering, blissfully oblivious kitten cradled in her arms.

She wishes she could have thought more about that while the cat was healing, then chastises herself for not doing so and simply enjoying the days the two spent together. She can't just go back and tell Manuela she changed her mind and would keep the cat herself, even though a great portion of her wants to do so. However, logic is keen to remind her how impossible that would be the moment her café opens – which is scheduled to happen in a few weeks. She can't watch over a kitty and a business like that, not without one of them suffering because of it.

The walk back to her apartment is brooding and sad, for a very different reason than the ones that plagued her mind the night she took Edelgard home for the first time.

Too soon she lies down and lets her thoughts keep wandering, kitty snugly fit against her body and between her arms. She wonders then how many more nights they will have like that, together, before she has to give up that amazing feline for someone more deserving. Someone who will treat it better, give all the love, time and attention that it needs for a happy life.

_ You are running out of time… _

__

_ You are running out of time… to make a choice. _

The thought struck Lysithea and she reeled away from it, away from the arrow that narrowly missed her. She cursed at it, eyes keen on the field and the opponents in front of her. She thought her heart had broken before, while they marched to Gronder Field and met up with former students from both the Blue Lions and the Black Eagles. No longer classmates, but knights and generals, their eyes that had once been wide with wonder and curiosity were then listless, due to all the bloodshed which had followed them for the last five years of war.

The war that was still raging through Fódlan and had just been rehearsed in the monastery's outskirts before, on that day when they had still been pupils.

When she had seen Edelgard for the last time.

The one thing Lysithea had never wanted was to meet the woman again in a battlefield, on opposite sides no less. Gronder was merciless, its rolling green fields a mere disguise to how bloodthirsty those lands were and had been for a while now. The clashing of weapons was a dull thud in the back of her mind, as the mage did her best to step away from the front lines and seek less crowded areas in order to aim and launch her spells.

Many corpses already littered the floor, way more visible there than they had been in the Siege of Garreg Mach due to the lack of trees and houses around. Their contorted faces and grimaces of pain at the last breath they had drawn would haunt Lysithea’s dreams already, but nothing was worse than the sight of those people she had spent almost a year with fighting one another like that, moves etched with sheer brutality and nothing more. 

Was Lysithea any different? Was she battling for something else aside from her own life in that moment, for another second, another breath that she had been allowed to take? She would be gone sooner rather than later, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t do her best to have every single minute that she could carve out of the world, out of her body and her tainted blood.

The wish to do so, to fight for herself, died as soon as she saw her. Edelgard looked every bit the warrior Emperor she was supposed to be, all clad in regal crimson armor that shone as bright as the flames of her passion, of her ambitions and dreams for a different Fódlan. The strength of her ideals fueled her every move, every step that struck the ground and the brilliant, ominous golden axe that she wielded.

Yet if one were to look at those lilac eyes, the way Lysithea did and refused to shy away from, it would be easy to see the sadness in them. Some uncertainty, the smallest unease at pressing on. Her axe was put away the moment she saw Lys and the Death spell on the mage’s palm ebbed away into nothingness.

They only had one second, one shared heartbeat when they stood still like that, guards and weapons lowered. Regret the only shield in their eyes, hiding away everything they didn’t want to reveal, the apology that was going through their minds.

Not that it would matter anyways. The deed was done and there was no time for words and only for actions then. Lysithea knew she had an opening to strike and, although there was some distance between them, there would be almost no chance for Edelgard to dodge. Again, she knew she could empower her spell to do great damage, maybe almost kill the Emperor. Her body didn’t respond, though, and the idea was gone just as the breeze that caressed their faces turned away to tug at other combatants along the way.

The second passed too fast, their minds set back to the war around them once their gazes went elsewhere. Then and only then did they raise both axe and spell to fight for themselves, for what would come after. A small part of them was left wondering if they had made the right choice back in Garreg Mach and now in Gronder, to ignore one another and press on opposite ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lysithea finally naming the cat and getting to rest, then finding joy in cooking and baking again? Yes! That was a joy to write, as much as her interactions with Edelkitty (I've also read it as Edelgato and honestly both sound good xD)
> 
> Next chapter will indeed be the last on this crazy idea, but it's funny to see how nice it has been to write this, even more so after reading "She and her cat", the manga that inspired it. Though yes, the fic deviated a lot from it and has more angst in Lys's dreams than everything else lol
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysithea has an unexpected guest that makes her question some things about the café. That, and recent progress on the adoption makes her restless and unable to sleep.   
> When she does, she dreams of the past and of one last encounter with a certain someone.

Lysithea is the first to set down her spoon on the small, porcelain plate and clean her mouth with the silver napkin they already have on board for when the Crescent Moon Café opens in a few days. The sweet, fruity taste lingers in her mouth and she wonders why in this particular time it doesn’t feel as completely good as it usually does. 

But then, she had the same feeling a few minutes ago when she, Mercedes and Annette were tasting her own version of the dessert. But in any case, it's just not as good. She doesn't know why, only that it can be better in some way.

“I can’t say for sure what it is, but it doesn't taste right.” She says, trying to keep her voice even and non judgemental. “Not that mine ever did, too, so please don’t take it the wrong way or anything -” 

“Don’t worry there, I understand what you’re saying.” Mercedes replied with a chuckle, waving her own spoon around and almost making some of the remaining Saghert and Cream fall on the immaculate, cleaned floor. “It doesn’t feel good or right for me either.”

The three of them are sitting on wooden chairs in front of a circular table, one that they hope would be occupied by customers in a few days’ time. They decided to take a break after an afternoon spent cleaning and making sure everything is in order in the kitchen and around the place as well.

Not that a lot has changed in a week, only the ovens that arrived and were cleaned a few days ago and the dishes, which were stacked into proper cupboards for safekeeping. Earlier on Annette placed in an order for ingredients and other utensils such as more spoons, trays of different sizes and knives. After that was done, Lysithea suggested that she and Mercedes should test the new ovens in some fun way. That was when the idea of them trying to recreate the original Saghert and Cream recipe came and the other baker loved it too much for them not to try.

Even more so when Annie said she would be more than happy to taste test it as well. 

Hence the two used different ovens for their recipes and used the extra one for something simpler. That made it a very interesting and fun afternoon too, and Annette enjoyed seeing her wife in work like that, even more so when her cooking partner wasbsuch a nice person as Lysithea. 

“I think you guys are being too critical. And that the recipe should be on the menu too.” Annie comments in a soft, caring voice that shows her appreciation for their gesture. No matter how many years she has been with Mercie, her cooking never ceases to amaze her at all. “If you don’t want the rest of it, I’ll be more than glad to -”

“Oh, now wait a minute.” Lysithea protests with a smile on her face. She loves how easy it is to talk to Annette, even though they met less than a week ago. “It’s not because I don’t think the recipe feels right that I don’t want more of it.” She rises and grabs everyone’s plates, then turns around to go to the kitchen. “Does everybody want seconds?”

Their nods are punctuated by open, happy expressions that make Lys feel her heart soar in a way that she has never thought possible before. She doesn’t want to analyze that, or complicate things as they are. However, she thinks it more than likely relates to the fact that she is no longer alone in her soon-to-be-opened café, as she was in those first few weeks. The same time period that saw her living by herself after a lifetime of sharing a house with her parents and knew absolutely everyone in Derdriu, whereas it was still somewhat tough for her to navigate Enbarr and there aren't many people she knows in it. 

So yes, it was a hard first few days, even more so when she didn’t have any idea of where things were located and how to move around in the Capital. Being lost and alone in a big city wasn’t easy; add to that the uncertainty of her career and if the plan of her opening a café would actually work. Her anxiety was a bit bad at that time, as bad as it was when she wanted to quit her job back in her hometown. It was indeed a difficult time, one that she tried and failed miserably at slowing down.

It is a blessing that such a thing is in the past, as of then. She turns around for a small second and glances at the two women, sitting at the table closest to the counter. The lights are off since the curtains are open and there is enough sunlight creeping in to ensure some luminosity to the entire setting, bathing it in a welcoming, soft yellow light. Knowing that place and that moment is entirely hers makes her smile even wider, before almost turning around and getting to the kitchen again. That is, if something didn't interrupt her halfway.

The three women freeze and stop talking the second they hear an imposing, strong knock to the closed door that resounded throughout the entire place. They look at one another with raised eyebrows and a question in their eyes. 

“Are we expecting someone else?” Lysithea inquires, surprised since they aren’t supposed to see anyone from the public before the opening day.

Since Mercedes and Annette shake their heads and shrug, Lys paces to the door and waits, wondering if it wasn’t a mistake and the person meant to knock on another place, maybe the clothing store nearby. She makes no move to open it until the sound comes again and she realizes that yes, they do have a visitor after all. Frowning, she pulls the door open and tries softening her expression into a welcoming one when she is met with an unknown person.

The man is tall, with long, straight dark brown hair and strange lilac eyes that remind her of something else. His skin is very pale, features stern so that the smile which is on his face seems too forced, too unnatural to be there. His clothes are very formal, a well-pressed, well-tailored black suit that almost hugs his frame, complete with a white undershirt, a crimson tie and very dark shoes too. He looks out of place standing in front of a café that has yet to open, his figure and demeanor so imposing that it is already interesting why he would be in that part of the city to begin with. 

“Good afternoon, may I help you?” Lysithea asks, trying her best to plaster the same type of beam upon her lips and act formal. Even though she knows she looks something funny and nothing of the serious professional type with a white apron thrown over her blue sweater and pants. And some cream left on her cheeks, too. 

“A great afternoon, young lady. May I speak to the proprietor, Miss hm… Lysithea von Ordelia?” The man asks, probably mistaking her for a waitress or a lowly cook due to her age and appearance. 

“You are speaking to her at the moment, sir. What’s your name?” Lys smirks at the taken aback expression which plasters itself over the guy’s face for a split second, before he goes back to the serious, contained self from before. 

“Ah, apologies, Miss Ordelia. I confess I didn’t know what you looked like even though your name is quite well-known in the field.” He admits with a small grin. “I’m Volkhard von Arundel, a pleasure to meet you.” 

He extends a hand to her and she shakes it more out of habit and courtesy than actual pleasantry. There is something about the man that she can’t really put her finger on, but it isn’t a nice feeling at all. It makes goosebumps rise and travel up and down her spine at the same time a scowl wants to take over her face.

Both are not very good examples of what to do when someone in a business suit literally comes knocking at her door. 

“The pleasure is mine, really.” She automatically replies, then decides to extend some nicety towards the unknown man in front of her. “Would you like to come inside, take a look around?”

“Oh absolutely, if you would be so kind.” He says, stepping in the darkened café the moment Lysithea gives him space to do so. His sheer demeanor makes something like hatred coil very close to her heart, a mixture of revulsion and anger that almost takes her over, making her hands ball into fists.

She tries keeping the emotion away before it can leak into her expression and ruin whatever it is that made Arundel come to her place to begin with. She should know better than to let herself be that transparent with someone she doesn’t know. However, the moment she steps into the café, she notices the feeling isn’t only hers, as both Mercedes and Annette have a weird expression in their faces as they look at the newcomer. 

“Is this a bad time? I do not want to disturb you and your companions.” He speaks in a smooth, gentle voice that is at odds with the aura he is giving off. “I can come back at another time.”

“Oh no, by no means.” Mercedes answers with a small beam that doesn’t reach her eyes as she gets up and waits for Annette to do the same. They were planning to stay around for a while longer, but something about that guy just makes them feel unwelcome, as if they have to get out of there as soon as possible or else. "Let's talk some more later, ok? I do think we should add that to the menu."

"Oh absolutely you guys should!" Annie exclaims, her eyes carefully falling upon the man who is looking at the cafe and intently listening to their conversation. "Have a good afternoon, Lys! It was nice to talk to you."

"It was a pleasure to have you here too. Good luck on your exam tomorrow." Lysithea adds when the couple is already at the entrance, their steps faster than before. They turn and nod at her appreciatively one last time before actually leaving, the door closing behind them with the softest thuds.

"It is a nice place you have here, Miss Ordelia." Arundel says the moment everyone else is out. The way he looks at things is unsettling per se, his gaze picking through little issues here and there with utmost ease. How one of the drapes is slightly tilted down and there's a stain on the left wall that they were unable to remove no matter what. "Do you already have an opening day scheduled?"

"Yes, it'll be next week." She responds, feeling like a child being questioned on her schoolwork. And the last thing she likes is being treated like one, but again decides it's better to not act on those impulses. "Would you like to take a seat?"

She waves her hand at a different table than the one she and the other girls were using before and he gladly takes the invitation, sitting down with a satisfied grunt. That's when she notices the square, black leather suitcase he was holding since he ceremoniously places it upon the table and leans his weight forward. The posture, although a common one, is a bit at odds with his demeanor from before.

In the end it all comes down to the looks. It is as if he's already sure he will get what he wants. Lys frowns for a second before taking the seat opposite to his and waits, then says when the silence becomes unbearable: "Pardon my bluntness but what brings you here?"

"By no means." He smiles and spreads his hands over the table, an open gesture that is a contrast to what can be read as mockery in his lilac eyes. "I have heard about you, about your career in Derdriu and your move to Enbarr. You see, I am the owner of a great business company, the Arundel Enterprises, and we offer management and promotion services to other services and local shops. My affiliates in Derdriu were sad to see you go, especially since you did work in one or more places where they helped. But I, on the other hand, was extremely content to hear that you were planning on starting a café of your own."

Ah, so that is what this is about. It shouldn't take Lysithea aback, not because she considers herself someone famous, but her name has indeed been used to promote one business or another (namely all the places in which she has worked before). So to have someone in the industry come seek her out shouldn't be that unusual, in a way.

What is uncanny about the entire thing is how much Volkhard's presence unsettles her, just like that. 

"But strangely enough, not many people know this - hm, what is it called, again?" The man goes on with a cryptic expression, his lack of knowledge for the building he just happened to visit something that strikes as weird.

"The Crescent Moon Café." She replies a bit too curtly, mentally chastises herself when he widens his eyes at it. 

"Ah yes, correct. No one seems to know that the Crescent Moon Café is about to open its doors." He concludes, a small smirk on his face. "And for how famous you are as a chef and baker, it doesn't make much sense, right?"

"You're here to offer me a solution then." She deadpans, crossing her arms in front of her chest and no longer caring about how he might read her body language. That just isn't a comfortable situation, period. 

It doesn't surprise her when he chuckles, as if her attitude is something cute albeit insignificant. "That, too. And I understand the resistance, not many business owners want another, big company to meddle in their affairs. But please hear me out for a second and feel free to interrupt me at any time."

Lys is already unwilling to give Arundel permission to proceed, but the sheer curiosity that has always guided her gets the best of her and she does so. After all, the guy was an expert in a sense. If his enterprise really had a branch all the way back in Derdriu to begin with, well, then he knows what he's talking about way better than she does, right? 

As Arundel speaks, Lysithea grows aware of how many things she has overseen in regards to managing a business, even a small one like hers. When Claude suggested the idea and told her she wouldn't have to stress out too much about those things, she took his word for it and did some studying on the matter at hands. She wanted to be ready and what with the fact she did take a timeout before moving, that just allowed her to read as much as she wanted to about it.

She thought she had quite a good understanding of what would be required of her aside from cooking and baking. In that moment in time she realizes it isn't the case at all. That she doesn't know almost anything at all about it. A part of her is skeptical of the fact that businesspeople are amazing at making others feel like they're lacking something, only to then offer the solution. 

And yes, she is aware that this is exactly what Volkhard is doing, even more so when she remembers how bad she felt before, the first time she looked at him. Yet by the time he is done, then beams at her and asks for her opinion, she can't help but agree with him and accept his help. 

"That's splendid, Miss Ordelia. Now I do admit I have to look some more at this particular type of business and what it entails, plus run a research on how it is like in Enbarr, the competition you will be facing and so on." He explains, his eyes exuding some happiness that is more chilling than reassuring. "Is it ok if I get back to you soon so we can schedule a day to sign off the deal?"

"Oh absolutely and you don't have to hurry with your research either." She replies with a smile of her own as both rise to their feet. "Your help is appreciated."

"I must excuse myself now, then. Have a great rest of your day, Miss Ordelia." With that he shakes her hand and goes away, but not before taking one last, long look at the cafe.

The moment the door closes behind him, Lysithea feels like she can breathe again and that the entire place is a lot lighter. There is a pang of something like guilt in her chest for agreeing to the proposition, even though it was just prospective work and she hasn't signed anything yet. 

Even so, having him on board, and as a manager, felt not only weird but… wrong. Lys doesn't like that word and would rather use something more concrete to describe what she is experiencing than vague concepts such as "right" or "wrong", though in that moment that's all her mind can really offer. And it isn't even that the entire situation is off. Arundel is. 

Those thoughts cloud her mind throughout the rest of the day and she finds herself restless, unable to either focus on cleaning and organizing cutlery or sit down to run through her checklists and make sure almost everything is ready. Annoyed with herself for that, she closes off the big, purple notebook she uses for planning, grabs the backpack that is lying on a chair next to her and closes everything off before going home. 

Enbarr is quiet in that late afternoon, the sun preparing to set and making the temperatures drop a bit. The sky is already darker behind her, with some specks of orange spreading over and around her as evening draws near. A slight breeze runs through her hair and that, alongside the cadence of her steps on concrete, is finally enough to soothe her mind from that encounter with Arundel. She even smiles at the freedom, at the thought of going home in such an early hour instead of being forced to rush back in the dead of the night after all the extra time she had put in her job at someone else's restaurant, bakery or café. 

Now she is about to open her own business and she supposes she should be happy for it. For how working during her school years allowed her to save more than enough for that - though her parents should get some praise too, both for not demanding any sort of fee from her and also contributing with part of the sum when she bought the café in Enbarr. Although there is some anticipation running through her chest at those thoughts, it's not the sweet one that comes with pride, with the sensation of a job well done. 

It is just the fear that things could go astray, or that it would fall over her head and she would be drowning in debt, in work and failure. Which, she knows, were probably the feelings that Volkhard's speech both awakened and festered upon back then. She has thought about those things before, of course, as it is just natural for one to do when starting something so big. It’s the intensity of it that surprises Lysithea, and how similar it is from the anxiety she used to feel right upon waking up and recalling she would have to work at a place she despised, later in the day. 

She shakes her head the moment she opens the door to her apartment and is greeted by a soft meow. The sound is enough to make her smile, just as it always does and, although this happens every time she returns home, it never ceases to amaze her that the cat is sitting down in front of the door, patiently waiting.

“Hello there, little one.” She greets the small animal, glad that it no longer needs bandages and some fur is growing back on the part that had to be shaved. The kitty stretches in response and purrs, then weaves itself between Lysithea’s ankles as she closes the door and grabs her phone from her pants pocket. “How was your- “

Her sudden bout of good mood is suddenly interrupted when she sees the first message notification, from one Ferdinand von Aegir that she has been talking to for a few days. Sighing, she remembers why else it felt like almost a need to be home earlier; she would have another couple coming to look at the cat for adoption. 

Edelgard picks up on her emotions and looks up, tilting her head in an inquisitive expression. She types a quick response to the man, confirming the time he and his husband would be there, then drops the mobile back where it was and takes off her shoes before half walking, half dragging herself to sit on the couch. Her clothes are presentable enough for the occasion, she thinks, and the house is as clean as it can be so as to not scare away newcomers like that. 

Though if truth be told, she wishes those things could be over. She turns to watch the cat approach her in a slower pace, as it still fears placing too much weight over the paw that was hurt, and remembers the several nice, amazing people she has rejected over the last few weeks. No matter how good they are, how cat-safe their houses are and how they seem to love animals above all else, Lys can’t bring herself to let them take Edelgard away from her. 

A part of her wants to go back to the veterinary hospital and say that she has changed her mind and will keep the kitty herself. However, it just doesn’t sound practical to that day. Yes, she has been doing just fine during those weeks they have been together, but even so. It pains her whenever she has to leave the apartment for extended periods of time, even though the feline is no longer hurt and has yet to destroy anything of hers (she secretly hopes this will never come to happen, too). And a cute little animal like that deserves as much love and affection as it can get, maybe a bigger place to live in as well - or a house - so it can have lots of space to run around and have some fun. 

She feels like she isn’t good enough, but at the same time she can’t really just go and give it up. It’s a dilemma, one that she has no response to, but she does wish there was a way for her to be with the cat for a longer time without having to sacrifice work, either. Edelgard is too sweet to be subjected to something like that, she thinks as that fluffy, white feline climbs on her lap and nuzzles her, the way it always does when she’s just gotten home. 

She would miss that, those little rituals. She would miss having someone sharing the small space of her apartment, the one she bought with her own sweat and tears, which were shed in Derdriu so that she could have a better shot at life in Enbarr. She would miss the feeling of coming home, of being at home with a creature that doesn’t judge her, that doesn’t call on her for not cooking, for not being productive, for not keeping busy at all times. 

Rather, Edelgard almost forced her to slow down, in the sense that she had to stay at home a little more during those first few days even though her mind kept yelling at her to do stuff. She is more than grateful for that, for the respite it brought to her rushing mind and chaotic thoughts. The gratefulness takes her over whenever she glances at the kitty. Only to be replaced by sadness if she imagines not caring for it anymore.

As Ferdinand and his husband Hubert arrive, two very different people who were more than delighted with the kitty and seem to be loved by it as well, she plasters a smile on her face and lets her mind go, already mourning a loss that has yet to happen. 

But it will happen, right? If not with that couple, that aesthetically looks so perfect with the white kitty due to the ginger of Ferdinand’s hair and the shadows that cling to Hubert in a nice way, then with someone else. But not her. From the beginning she has said the cat wouldn’t be with her. And now she is backtracking in a way that wouldn’t end well for either her or the animal itself. 

She watches them play, watches as Hubert manages to get the cat in his arms with not so much of a struggle, but the same isn’t true to Ferdinand. It is funny to see how Edelgard interacts so differently with them, preferring Hubert’s calmer, more precise ways than the ginger-haired man’s more extravagant attitude. 

At the end of the visitation, she tells them it was a pleasure to meet them and that she would like to schedule a visit to see their homes, making them both widen their eyes and beam at the prospect that, more than likely, they would be chosen. She accompanies them to the door, thanks both with the same beam that has been on her lips since the moment they have arrived and only lets her own feelings show the second the men are out of sight.

Her rational mind knows what she needs to do. Her heart has other designs, it seems. 

It has been a while since the last time Lysithea had trouble sleeping, so much that she can’t even remember when it was as she lies on the comfortable mattress wide awake. It is late, she knows by the sheer fact that her body is tired even though her mind is still going - and doesn’t look like it will calm down any sooner.

She tries focusing on the kitty’s soft breathing, as it lies nestled on her chest with a paw over her heart. That has been its preferred sleeping position for quite a while now and she appreciates it, the comfort it gives her after such eventful last few days. The fact that those events and possibilities are playing in her brain even as she shuts her eyes and tries to relax is nothing but a statement of her distress. 

A day ago she visited Ferdinand’s and Hubert’s house with a heavy heart, in order to proceed with the adoption process. The veterinary hospital had that as a mandatory step before any pets were taken from whoever was temporarily caring for them and could either send their own professionals for a look or trust the current owners with it. Lysithea, who rejected all previous candidates to adopt Edelgard, went there herself just to take a peek, even though her entire self protested every single step of the way and at every word that was said to the couple. 

The estate was big and very well kept, a two-story house on the edges of Enbarr that denoted how wealthy the couple was. There was a front and a backyard which were double the size of her apartment each, all with emerald green grass, flowers which the men tended with utmost care, plus several coffee and chamomile plants decorating both. All plugs on the walls were already covered by safety devices and the windows had protection too, even though the house wasn’t the highest thing ever. 

There was so much love and attention to everything in that place, in the way the two men looked at one another and how even their bickering was soft and turned into soothing when it got too dark and broody. It was a sight to behold, and it would be stupid of her to say no to them when their love for the cat was also so blatant. Edelgard would have all that she needed right then. Space, love, freedom, comfort. All that, in her mind, Lysithea couldn't give.

So the moment she was getting ready to leave, after keeping her smile in place even though her heart lurched at the prospect, she ended up giving a vague answer about the adoption, as Ferdinand eyed her with too much curiosity to not be addressed. Her steps were even heavier as she left the estate and went back to her humble abode in the middle of Enbarr.

They would more than likely be the ones. She should call them some time and set the date for the papers to be signed and to make sure everything is fine. But hell if she doesn’t feel the sting of tears behind her eyes whenever she gets her phone and even thinks about messaging Ferdinand about it. It is even worse if she happens to look at Edelgard and wonder how bleary, empty her days will be like when it is no longer there. 

And that is why she procrastinates making that call. Even more so when someone else called her just that night, one second before she and the kitty settled down to sleep. 

Arundel had a chirpy tone that was at odds with how she remembered the man to be, his stoic, cold nature completely gone and replaced by something that had a tinge of victory she didn’t enjoy at all. He greeted her with the "Miss Ordelia" she grew to dislike due to their short conversation and told her he was done with researching and had a very good offer to present to her tomorrow morning, and oh, if she wouldn’t be so kind to receive him at the café by 9 am? 

She was dazed at his excitement and the fastness with which he worked. It wasn’t that long since they had last talked, but in the end she pushed that matter out of her mind in order to focus on better, easier to deal ones (like perfecting that Saghert and Cream to add to the menu, for example). So the moment she saw his name on her phone screen she jumped and was uncomfortable before he even spoke something at all. 

In the end she agreed to it, to everything that he said and would even take him a tray homemade cupcake if he asked for it. She just wanted to get rid of that, to go on with her life and perhaps only see him when her presence was required at business meetings. Or whatever the hell that was like, she had no experience as a manager and honestly had no interest to be one. Which was exactly why she was so happy to delegate, but at the same time so weary that it would be to someone like him.

It is clear right then, as she tries to disengage from both interactions and focus on the more positive ones (like all the cooking and fun she, Annette and Mercedes were having at the unopened café) that they have disturbed something inside of her. Something primeval, even, something she has and does not have any memory of. She can’t explain, nor does she want to attempt that, but curls closer to the cat lying in her arms and proceeds to block out the present, only to open up to the past. 

A past so distant, it can only come back to her through dreams indeed.

Lysithea pressed on forwards, even though she saw herself alone in that endeavor. Smoke from fire and magical residue floated around her, making it hard to see the chaos going on as the battle raged. The place was pierced by screams of people in pain, of generals giving orders and asking their soldiers to turn back, to flank the enemy from both sides or to go on despite the outcome. 

She hadn’t been given any of those orders, but ignored the one she had been issued from moment one. As the Enbarr palace unveiled itself in front of her very eyes, she rushed as fast as she could, spell after spell coming from her hands in a flurry of purple, black and grey that left nothing in their wake. She was aware of the destruction she was causing, of those she was hurting in order to get her objective done with.

Even if that was the nature of war, that she had been pitted against someone she had felt a connection to before, it didn’t mean she would let others decide her fate for her. Or  _ her  _ fate, too. 

Her steps echoed through polished marble floors that in that day reflected death, fire and blood. She grabbed the staff in her hands with more strength than it was necessary as she climbed some lavish, ample stairs that were adorned with red and golden, the colors of the Empire which had slowly been crumbling beneath their army, the one lead by Claude and professor Byleth as they sought to liberate Fódlan from Edelgard’s realm. 

To say victory was already guaranteed would be a bout of optimism she would never agree to any time soon. The Emperor had yet to show herself in combat - a moment that Lysithea was somewhat both dreading and looking forward to. She had to see her, even if it were for just one more time. Even if it were to make sure she was still the same girl Lys had spotted in the Officers Academy, always vigilant, her eyes sparkling to most who looked at them and didn’t know how to really see. 

For those who did, it would be easy to catch on how the lilac was actually veiled by the weight of the past. A weight that, if she had guessed correctly, Lysithea was also familiar with.

The mage dodged a spear aimed at her heart and almost unconsciously launched a Miasma to deal with that. She didn’t even watch as the soldier’s body fell to the floor, their screams reaching her ears as she moved on. It had been enough when the same had happened to Petra and Dorothea a few hours ago, their broken voices making something twist in the pit of her stomach. She shoved the image to the back of her mind, even more so when she realized that she had actually reached the throne room, then opened the door with a mere spell without even realizing it.

Her steps halted over the pristine red rug which stood in a straight line from the entrance to the throne, not due to tiredness, but for the vision presented itself in front of her. 

Edelgard was even more regal than Lysithea could remember, her golden and crimson armor reflecting off the eerie light that her ominous axe radiated. Her face was contrite, lilac irises screwed and almost small, almost too helpless for someone in her position, in her place. 

Every part of her screamed regret and a heaviness that had never been there before, as she descended the stairs from the throne at the same time Lysithea approached her. She knew the same expression was in her face, in the way there was no magic running through either her palms, the staff or her bloodstream. Likewise, just as it had been during the Siege of Garreg Mach and the battle at Gronder Field, the Emperor’s weapon was lowered, her stance smaller and unwilling. 

Regardless of her wishes, though, Edelgard knew this time there was nowhere she could run to. Nor were there other enemies to focus on, so they could pretend to turn a blind eye to each other. She should have predicted that this would happen, that perhaps the little mage would be the one to reach her first despite anything else. If there was something Lysithea didn't lack, it was the power and the determination to do it. 

And there they were at last, face to face, eye to eye. Deep lilac and burning pink holding each other in a dance that they couldn’t decipher, with thoughts they no longer knew how to voice. They had run out of time to do that years and years ago. 

The only thing left to do was to fight, but neither wanted to break that stalemate, that small cocoon of calm amidst the chaos going on within the palace. They didn’t want to join in that destruction, yet that was, that had been, the only path. There had been no choice, no other choice than to tag along or else risk something worse from happening. And those feelings were so starkly etched at their eyes, that they were convened without a need for words.

In that moment Lysithea understood that her suspicions had been true all along. The two of them had indeed shared a past in some way or another, shared the burden that had been left engraved in their skins, in their minds, in the way they saw the world around them. That made the mage take a small step back, as the quiet, intimate moment of recognition and familiarity engulfed them both, granted them some sort of relief they had never thought they would get with another human being. 

She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t do what was being requested of her, what the rest of the army wanted her to do since she had gotten there first. The sentiment was mutual, Lys knew, or else she wouldn’t be standing there, side by side with such a powerful woman. Such a powerful, fierce soul that shone as brightly as hers did, for reasons that neither of them had had any control over. 

Words didn’t come to either of them, even though they both wished to speak. What could they even say to change that scenario? They walked around a little, to the point that they were closer to the center of the room, eyes convening more emotion that words ever would. The battle became background noise to that interaction and time passed, seconds ticking slowly as if to give them a chance, no matter how small, to make things right. 

To make their lives… theirs.

However, the moment ended too soon as Lysithea saw the change coming on Edelgard’s body. The way her shoulders tensed and her lilac eyes first widened in surprise, then narrowed down in anger while she took a better hold on her axe and raised it.

Only later would Lys be able to tell what exactly happened, as too much occurred too soon. When faced with the view of that ominous weapon pointing straight at her, Lysithea reacted as anyone would, mindlessly called and launched a Luna spell at the one threatening her with death. Edelgard’s face contorted in surprise and pain as well as some urgency, one hand moving forward in warning even as her body fell to the ground and dealt with the dark magic that ran through her, opening old scars and carving new ones with the might of the feelings which had empowered that spell. 

Guilt. Regret. Doubt. Confusion. Fear. Surprise. The six mixing together to create something bigger than a simple Luna by strengthening the dark magic that was behind it all. The same magic which now consumed Edelgard, but couldn’t stop her from propelling herself on her elbows and point behind the mage, then say with a raspy voice: “Lysithea, careful!”

Lys had a moment to wonder what was happening, then less than a second to dodge when another spell came her way. Turning around, she found herself against enemies she had never thought would show themselves to her again. A total of seven people in long, black robes and hoods which covered their faces. Their pointy masks peeked from underneath it and their palms were open, ominous, dull purple magic ebbing and flowing over them in a menacing way. 

She saw them turn towards Edelgard dismissively, even though she was mostly sprawled on the floor and in need of healing as blood oozed from her armor, painted the marble crimson. That shouldn’t have surprised Lys, who took a protective stance in front of the Emperor and called upon magic despite the way her heart was pounding too fast inside her chest at the sight of those nightmares from her past. She would face them. She would win and apologize to Edelgard, then perhaps think about a way to -

An arrow swooshed beside her head, cutting any and all hope she could have of doing things a different way. The moment she heard a pained moan behind her, she knew that was it. That was also the moment when her heart lurched, stopped beating, eventually froze.

Lysithea didn’t even bother to check on Edelgard as she and Claude started attacking those strange mages in front of them, eventually dealing with every single one. She had felt the exact second the one person who had ever understood her left that place with nothing but a cold, hard floor and reopened scars from a tragic past to keep her company.

She didn’t cry when she was indeed told by a cheerful Claude that the Emperor had been defeated. She didn’t smile either, not even when sweets and cake were offered to her in a victory party later on, one that would be interrupted with a messenger carrying a letter from Hubert - and more things they would have to deal with in order to free Fódlan from that evil. 

She had run out of time. And she damn wished she would not do the same if there was ever another chance to make things right. She vowed so, at the same time she vowed to never forget the name which was on her lips, once she set down to Shambala and discovered more about her past. About their past.

“Edelgard… I am sorry.”

It isn’t the alarm clock that wakes Lysithea up, but a meowling cat, words on her lips and a feeling of regret which settles deep over her chest. She opens her eyes to wide, feline lilac irises which are trained on her, as the cat climbed into the pillow sometime during the night and remained looking at her, it seems. 

She knows she had a terrible dream, something tragic about death, about trust and time. Again there are rivulets of colors dancing in her mind, reds, golds, blacks, blues. There are sounds, too, but they run together and make up a cacophony which she is unable to untangle. The feelings it evokes are too ominous, too bad and she wants to escape them more than anything else. 

That is why she brings the cat closer to her chest and sighs, running her hands through the fluffy fur and letting the motion soothe her for as long as she can. Her eyes remain open, focused on the white walls; its plainess also helps to ground her, bringing her back to that reality instead of allowing the rocky, uncertain rivulets of memory and dreams to take her over. 

She wishes she could remember, if only to satiate the curiosity which has taken her over ever since those weird dreams began. Yet she knows it would be too painful to recall that past, when her actions were guided by those who thought they knew better. To a certain point they did, but not about all of it, not about something that mattered to her back then. Those are the sensations and thoughts that course through her in that morning, when it is still too early to get up. 

Eventually she calms down and her heart goes back to beating in the rhythm of this world, of this reality and not the one she has seen in dreams. In her arms, Edelgard keeps a watchful eye over her, then shifts and goes away a second before Lysithea starts getting up. It sits on the floor, poised with an elegance that goes beyond that of a mere cat, that reminds her of -

“Well that would be absurd. All cats are gracious like that and you’re just a pretty bastard, that’s all.” Lysithea mutters and laughs when the animal in front of her pushes its ears backwards in clear sign of irritation. “Oh Goddess, if you’re reacting like that to me, I wonder what you’d do next to Mr. Businessman, Volkhard von Arundel. I need to meet him in a few minutes and see what he has to say about managing the café, but I wish that- Edelgard?”

She stops talking and looks down surprised when a loud hiss sounds through the bedroom. Sure, the kitten has done that before but not in such a feral, annoyed way. Almost as if there is something there - or maybe something that she said - that irritates the kitty to no end. The thought is confirmed and reinforced when its hind legs and tail creep up, back arching and fur standing on end, making the cat she is so fond of look something terrifying. 

“Hey, what’s up?” She speaks again, dropping to her knees in front of the animal as a growl rumbles low on its throat. The beautiful lilac eyes she loves so much are narrowed to a dangerous slit, one that makes her wonder if it’s safer to step away from the kitty instead of remaining close like that. 

That goes on for a while, the hisses becoming angry mews as it refuses to calm down. Although that is a very young cat, Lysithea doesn’t have the courage to pet or touch it, not in the state that it is in. Better to wait for a while and just hope that it isn’t the first time she’ll come back to a destroyed house. 

Wondering if it is wise to move at a normal pace around a feline on edge, she slowly gets to her feet and takes the smallest steps around the room, going for the clothes she placed over the chair the night before. She has less than half an hour to go, which is fine since she doesn’t take long to get to the café anyways, but even so she doesn’t want to be late. Rather, she wants to be done with that part of the day and go on to what really matters, to all the cooking and the fu-

A yelp of surprise escapes her mouth the second she hears a louder hiss and the sound of something falling to the ground. She turns around to see Edelgard standing on her bedside table, looking pointedly at her, and the alarm clock on the floor, not broken but still at a strange angle.

Their eyes are still locked and Lys watches as the cat’s paw lurches forward and makes the book she was reading suffer the same fate. 

“Hey! That’s not like you at all. Get out of there.” She stomps closer to the mattress, gathers her things and gently tries shooing it away, only to have her hand caught between its paws and gently bitten. “What’s wrong with you?”

From there it all goes downhill. Edelgard proceeds to jump from nightstand with grace and dart away from the room, hissing and growling as it bumps against furniture, climbs on tables and makes as many things as it can tumble to the ground. Small potted plants that Lys recently got, books, notebooks, pens, spoons, forks, the tv controller, paperweights (aren’t those too heavy for a kitten to move?) and anything else it could find. 

Lysithea was unable to keep up with it, to grab it or to stop it from turning her home into chaos, just like she has always heard that cats do. It is the first time Edelgard does it, but that doesn’t diminish her irritation at all. And no matter how loudly she yells at it - until a neighbor complains by screaming at her to shut up - the cat is throughout and relentless. 

It only stops when everything it can touch is on the ground, turning the apartment into a war zone and a difficult place to walk in. The baker looks at the cat with wide, astounded eyes, even more so as she sees it proudly looking at her in front of the kitchen door. She doesn’t know what to do, how to react or explain what just happened, her mind going numb with the thought of all she would have to clean now, before going to work and meeting that man.

“Why did you do this?” She lashes out, getting a broom and sweeping away the living room first, where most of the damage was done. There is no way she’ll be able to get through it all and make it to the meeting on time, so she decides to prioritize cleaning the place that looks the worse. “Now I’ll be lucky if I’m not late and I’ll have to spend the night cleaning after doing the same at the café! It isn’t like you to misbehave like that either.”

It might be her imagination, but she thinks she sees the cat’s ears sweeping down, its fur finally returning to its usual length after spending all that energy wreaking havoc around the apartment. Lysithea huffs at it, since that changes nothing and still gives her a lot of work to do. “If you want to apologize, then grab a broom and help me. Or never do that again.”

After that, Edelgard has the decency to turn away and vanish into the room, leaving the girl to tend to the house alone with her curses. Curses that intensify once she realizes that her keys are nowhere to be found. And of course she doesn’t have spares, nor will she leave the apartment with an unlocked door. She searches, now in silence and no longer thinking she would get to that meeting, the panic of being late turning into something like resignation.

Well, truth be told she was never really keen on making a deal with Arundel Associates from the beginning. Beneath it, the dread and weariness brought by her dream, she knows there is also an unwillingness to go and sign off a paper she would barely read. That guy gave her bad vibes the instant they met, for crying out loud. And yes, it would be nice for her to have someone taking care of the more administrative nature that any business had, but does it really have to be him? 

No, no it doesn't, she decides when she eventually finds the key, three hours later, snugly hidden underneath Edelgard's paws. She can't even afford to be mad at the cat for one reason or another and in the end just gives her a slight pat on the head, wondering if that strange, loving little animal wasn't trying to warn her of something before. 

She sighs once the entire house is clean and wipes sweat off her brow. It's almost lunch time and she has yet to eat something for the day, her stomach rumbling in protest as she makes her way into the kitchen. Halfway there she grabs her phone from the dining table and unlocks the screen to not one, not two, but ten very peeved messages from yours truly, Volkhard von Arundel.

_ "Miss Ordelia? I am here at the full moon café already. I would like to remind you of our nine am meeting. Have a good morning." _

_ "A ten-minute delay is completely understandable, but I do still wish to know if you are planning to come as I have other places to visit as well." _

_ "I am astounded at your lack of tact, Miss Ordelia. That was not what I was expecting from someone with your professionalism. Clearly I mistook you for a person who took things seriously." _

On and on it goes, until she is sure the man had to hold himself in check in order to not use all caps and shout at her through messages. Maybe if this happened during another point in her life Lysithea would feel ashamed of herself, the guilt so strong it would eat at her for months.

In that particular morning, however, as the sun slants throughout the undraped windows of the apartment she calls her home, a white cat looks at her quizzically from the couch and she feels her chest unclench, all she can do is laugh at the absurdity of it. 

She shakes her head, giggling while typing something to her newest friends, then gathers some ingredients to cook once she puts her mobile away and Edelgard approaches, then sits on the kitchen counter and waits.

An hour later she finds herself giggling once Mercedes and Annette knock at her door, thinking about how funny it is that the cat has just helped her make another helping of Saghert and Cream. One that relied on the hard-to-find Noa fruit for the cream and a combination of peaches and some more of the almost delicacies for the cobbler. All of those were pawed by the cat, whereas it would growl or pull back its ears at Lysithea's usual choices of blue or blackberry. That's how she knew whether the kitty approved of or rejected what she wanted to add.

"Oh hello there." Mercedes says as soon as she steps into the apartment and comes face to face with a kitten sitting on the kitchen counter. "You have quite a little assistant, Lys."

"Tell me about it. If you don't like what I made, that's totally its fault by the way." The girl jokes, giving them space so they can both go to the living room, where plates and a tray wait for them with the dessert that has already become a staple between them.

"Oooooh Saghert and Cream this early! You spoil me too much." Annette announces with a singsong voice, already falling on the chair facing the window and reminiscing on what a nice start to her day that is. 

"Well, I'm biased but you deserve it, honey. All that studying you have been doing needs to be rewarded." Mercedes answers, her eyes falling over her partner with love and care.

Lysithea can't help but smile at their interactions as she, too, takes a seat and motions at the two to serve themselves. "How are your exams going, Annie?" She inquires, chucking when a kitty jumps to her lap and makes itself comfortable there. 

"Oh they're almost over. Tonight will be the last one and I'll be free to look over some stuff for you and Mercie too." The redhead answers, then places a spoonful in her mouth and widens her eyes. "Oh my Goddess, this is just perfect!"

"Is it? The cat literally helped me make it." Lys taunted, but can't help the gasp of surprise that leaves her lips when she finally tastes it as well. 

It doesn't only feel good, the flavor hitting her with how exquisite it is. It feels right, somehow. As if she has finally cracked the recipe, making a copy of the dessert that was so appreciated by nobles in the days of old Fódlan. She sees her own thoughts echoed in the other two's eyes and face, then something like pride and love for it. 

"This is definitely it." Mercedes says with a smile. "Goddess, no wonder it was so liked back then. We need to get this on the menu!"

At first Lys opposes to that, saying it might be a little too late since their menus are almost completely printed and ready to go. The two only reassure her that it is the right thing to do, that the person responsible for getting them made wouldn't complain if they sent a generous serving of the dessert along with their request to add that last-minute thing. 

They laugh and talk, even more so when Lys shows them the messages she got from peeved Arundel. That does make Annette crack even more so, given that she is a business undergraduate and his attitude was nothing but unprofessional to say the least.

"Hm, I can help if you'd like me to." Annie suggests a second later, her voice small and shy. She knows the café means a great deal to Lysithea, as it should be, and that she is nothing but a student and not someone working on a huge company like Volkhard, but still. It would be nice to aid in any way that she could. "I know, I don't have experience, but if anything happens I can ask my professors and-"

"I'd love it, Annie. If it's not too much for you, though, I don't want you to get overloaded with school and work." Lys answers with a kind beam. There's no one she would trust more than that girl, the little overachiever that conquered Mercedes's heart so many years ago by trying to bake her favorite cookies - and well, failing just a bit when they burned.

With that settled and them chatting a bit more about life in general, time passes and they end up rising from the table after eating. They go on to watch some things on tv, sprawled around the couch and playing with the cat. The idea is to distract Annette so she won't go home and study until she drops (although she has already mastered the subject so many days before) and it works.

It works so well that they don't even realize it is late afternoon when Mercedes and Annette rise to leave, then take a last look at Lysithea and her cat.

"Thanks for inviting us, Lys, and sorry if we overstayed." Mercedes begins once they're close to the door. She eyes them together, the way the kitty watches everything the baker does. "And if you'd ask me, please don't let anyone adopt Edelgard. You two look so good together and you're dependable."

"I know." Lys sighs, eyes downcast. They discussed that issue too, even if only for a little while since it made her sad. "But how can I care for it once the café is open? I can't let it stay home alone all day long."

"Well, can I give you my opinion?" Annie queries, somewhat shyly. She knew it would probably be seen as stupid, as completely impractical and a waste of Lysithea's time. Nevertheless she presses on, then explains why it would be a good idea, though it does seem like she doesn't even need to say anything more.

The look Annette receives before she and Mercedes leave makes her wonder if she has just said the smartest thing in her entire life.

That night, Lys makes some calls and sends some messages, including one to Ferdinand von Aegir and another to the veterinary hospital. There is a smile on her face as she does both and her mind falls quiet for the first time in a while.

She has not run out of time. She has not made the wrong decisions this time around. She'll make her life hers, alongside the cat that has chosen her too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so guys! I'm sorry for adding a chapter to it but I swear it's a short one (that will be more of a small epilogue)
> 
> In any case, there you go. Arundel being an annoying person and Edelkitty misbehaving for a good cause xD
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this and thank you for reading!


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the opening day and Lysithea does some reminiscing about the past, the present and the future she has to look forward to.   
> And to all who have accompanied her thus far, plus the decisions she has made.

It is another morning not too many days after Arundel was probably seen typing furiously in front of a closed café. The skies are overcast and temperatures have dropped a bit during the weekend, placing a soothing, lulling atmosphere around Enbarr. 

For the first time in months Lysithea is going to work in a time most would consider a tad too early. The sky is shy of having some light to it and the lamp posts are still on in order to bathe the streets with their dull yellow luminescence. In the past, when that happened the young baker usually felt just as dull and unimportant, her heart and body beating to the rhythm of a routine she loathed, surrounded by sounds and smells she was supposed to love but grew to hate due to the pressure of it all. 

Nothing can be more different in that particular morning, as a smile stretches across her face and illuminates it, her hands open and close in excitement at the prospect of cooking and she hums a song she doesn't remember learning, but that she knows by heart even so. 

_ As joy surrounds, comfort abounds, and I can feel I'm breaking free. For just this moment lost in time I'm finally me. _

Her steps echo through the empty streets and she remembers doing the same in Derdriu. Well, with the one other difference being that now there is another being beside her, even if its steps are silent instead of echoing her own. 

After all, cats are quiet like that. 

She doesn't need a leash, nor to carry Edelgard in her arms. The kitty just follows her as if it were natural to do so, its eyes turning left and right to take stock of the world around them. A world which is stirring, getting started on a new day and perhaps on routines that have been repeated several times. 

In the same way that it was for Lysithea, some months and many more kilometers ago. Now in a new city, with a new, old companion by her side, she is about to begin another chapter of her life. One that will be filled with days spent in her own café, with bakers, cookers and friends she has made and will probably go on making throughout weeks that will go by. With a certain kitty by her side, too.

Once she arrives, she smiles to the darkened building that will be opened in a few hours. After letting Edelgard in she closes the door, then watches as the feline darts to a little place to the right, one that was added recently and has some toys, some cushions and cat towers in lilac, deep crimson and white. She only leaves for the kitchen after making sure the cat is comfortably lying down on one of the pillows, eyes fixed on Lysithea as a soft purr escapes its throat.

Lys's excitement grows as she fills the place with sounds and smells that have made her childhood days merrier, avoiding the ones that caused sorrow to ebb into her cooking. While cakes bake, more bakers join her, including an equally happy Mercedes that soon falls into the lull of making bread, then switching to cupcakes as the dough rises.

Their pace is amicable and the conversation is cheery, a stark contrast to all the cutthroat places where both Mercie and Lys have worked throughout the years. They share a knowing look between kneading dough and turning on some ovens, their chests squeezing in delight with all the teamwork they are already seeing. And yes, they know it's too early to tell, but if things go on like that they surely wouldn't mind working in a café at all.

When everything is ready, coffee machines are tested and an assortment of pastries, cakes and breads are placed on the balcony, Lysithea stands in front of the team and smiles at them. They are either dressed in the full whites of cooks and chefs or the light purple for waiters and clerks. They beam back at her, some shifting their weight from foot to foot in nervousness. They nod together and a kitty meows from her corner of the room, making everyone burst into chuckles that makes the anticipation disperse, a gaze lifting from their eyes.

She turns and walks to the door; a look through the open windows is enough to reveal a line has already formed - and not because Mr. Arundel was kind enough to advertise for them. Actually, a few days later a certain cat might call Lysithea's attention to a newspaper article detailing the arrest of a man whose codename was Thales, accused of impersonating someone named Volkhard von Arundel in order to commit frauds and robbery from small business owners. When that happens, Lys may look at the cat and wonder if it has saved her from a big one. But that's neither here nor there. 

The lights are turned on before Lysithea ceremoniously opens the doors to the Crescent Moon Cat Café and is received with claps from waiting customers. Somehow she isn't surprised to see a beaming, proud Manuela Casagranda as the first one to come in and settle down on a table. 

She hears the coos, the exclamations of surprise and adoration from the others that line in and are attended by one of her employees. For some of those people it's their first job and she hopes that they'll like it. That she'll be able to keep it a safe, friendly workplace no matter what. She keeps that in mind, keeps the appreciation in mind and lets it all embrace her heart even if they have yet to serve one person. 

"Look at you, getting this place up and working in so little time." Manuela says, calling her attention back to the present and to the woman in front of her, who is idly looking at the menu.

A second later the vet's glance goes to the special corner that is reserved for the kitties that the hospital will send for adoption, as well as a veterinarian to periodically check on them. Her eyes fall onto the single feline that's currently sitting on top of a cat tower, watching the flurry of activity with a regal air of sorts.

"She's looking great, by the way. I was happy to hear that you ended up taking her out of the adoption program." Manuela goes on, then settles the menu down. "I'd like the Saghert and Cream, please. And do pet that little cutie for me, she surely does look like a queen all up there."

Lysithea nods and beams, then walks to Edelgard and places a soft hand on its head. "She's more of an Emperor type, I'm sure."

As she walks to the kitchen and gets the ingredients to work on that order, she catches herself wondering if that is actually the case. If that cat could be… 

In the end she just laughs, shakes her head and gets back to work, but that doesn't mean she doesn't mentally apologize the moment she meets the little kitten's open, happy lilac eyes again. And if that is actually the case, well, she hopes that means they will have all the time in the world to make things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done! This was cooler to write than I thought it would be, but hey. Edelkitty and Lys as a baker? Their past together? Arundel being debunked, plus Mercedes and Annette as a cute couple? How could it not be fun xD
> 
> Thank you so very much for reading this crazy fic! You can always find me on le twitter at @Lina_Luthor if you want to :3  
> Have a great rest of your weeks!


End file.
